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BRYN  MAWR  NOTES 
AND    MONOGRAPHS 
•    I 


THE  ESTHETIC  BASIS 
OF  GREEK  ART 

OF  THE  FIFTH  AND  FOURTH  CENTURIES  B.C. 


THE  ESTHETIC  BASIS 
OF  GREEK  ART 

OF  THE  FIFTH  AND  FOURTH  CENTURIES  B.C. 


By 
RHYS  CARPENTER 

Professor  of  Classical  Archaeology 
in  Bryn  Mawr  College 


BRYN   MAWR  COLLEGE 
Bryn  Mawr,  Pennsylvania 

LONGMANS.  GREEN  AND  CO. 
Xph'  York,  Bombay,  Calcutta,  and  Madra' 


1921 


yya,  33  ^ 


Copyright,  1921.  bv 
BRYN   MAWR   COLLEGE 


GREEK    ART 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  >  PAGE 

I.        THE     SUBJECT-MATTER     OF     GREEK 

ART 1 

II,       THE  FORMS  OF  ARTISTIC  PRESENTA- 
TION         28 

III.  THE   ESTHETICS   OF    GREEK    SCULP- 

TURE       76 

IV.  THE    ESTHETICS    OF    GREEK     ARCH- 

ITECTURE      153 


BRYN     MAWR     NOTES 


486 


vi 

E  S  T  H  E  TIC     BASIS 

1 

B  R  Y  N     M  A  W  R    NOTES 

OF     GREEK     ART 

vii 

FOREWORD 

The  present  monograph  is  a  critique  not 
of  artistic  taste  but  of  artistic  behaviour. 
It  makes  no  attempt  to  eulogise  or  appre- 
ciate or  evaluate  ancient  Greek  art,  but 
solely  to  examine  Greek  artistic  procedure 
and  by  such  an  examination  to  arrive  at 
some  fundamental  esthetic  problems  and 
principles. 

Such  a  study,  since  it  tries  to  be  funda- 
mental, must  aim  at  a  method  suffi- 
ciently general  to  be  appHcable  not  to 
Greek  sculpture  only,  but  to  sculpture  in 
all  times,  and  not  to  Greek  architecture 
alone,  but  to  architecture  the  world  over. 
The  chapters  which  deal  with  these  arts 
overpass,  therefore,  the  boundaries  of 
Hellenic  antiquities  and  attempt  an  esthetic 
critique  of  sculpture  and  architecture  as 
human  (and  not  merely  as  Grecian)  artis- 
tic activities.  But  the  starting-point  for 
theorising  has  alwaj^s  been  Greek  practice. 

AND     MONOGRAPHS 

I 

Vlll 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


Those  who  are  famiHar  with  the  little 
of  value  which  ancient  esthetic  speculation 
offers,  will  perhaps  have  noticed  that  the 
best  of  this  speculation  comes,  not  from 
the  philosophers,  but  from  the  practicing 
artists  themselves  and  from  the  historians 
of  art.  I  have  tried  to  follow  and  incor- 
porate every  such  hint  or  indication  of  the 
intellectual  attitude  of  the  ancient  artists 
toward  their  craft. 

The  bibliography  of  my  subject  is  ^'•ery 
nearly  negligible.  One  debt  (outside  of 
Greek  archaeology  altogether)  is,  however, 
a  heavy  one;  and  I  wish  to  acknowledge 
great  obligation  to  the  keen  and  serious 
dialectic  which  distinguishes  Geoft'rey 
Scott's  Architecture  of  Humanism. 

R.  C. 


Bryii  Mtnvr   College 
September,    1921 


BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 


OF     GREEK     ART 

1 

I 

THE  SUBJECT-MATTER  OF  GREEK 
ART 

Specimens  of  Greek  hand-mirrors  may  be 
found  in  any   of  the  great  museums   of 
classical  art.      The  worn  and  patina-cov- 
ered disk  was  once  a  plate  of  burnished 
bronze.    To  it  was  fastened  a  handle,  often 
Icmiinating  in  a  base  on  which  the  mirror 
could  be  made  to  stand  upright.     A  circle 
to  reflect  the  circle  of  the  human  face,  a 
handle  by  which  to  grasp  and  turn  the 
disk,   a  support  on  which  to  stand  it — 
these  three  elements  arose  out  of  the  ser- 
vice for  which  mirrors  are  made.    With  the 
Greeks,  art  was  closely  wedded  to  mere 
utility;   and  the  modem  museum-goer  can 
discover  something  of  the  essential  beha- 
viour of  Greek  art  if  he  pauses  to  see  what 
the    ancient   artist   contributed    to    these 
three  utilitarian  elements  of  an  old-time 
looking-glass. 

An  intro- 
ductory in- 
stance 

• 

AND     MONOGRAPHS 

I 

Unity  of 
matter 


Unity  of 
form 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


Disk,  handle,  and  base — a  circle,  a  shaft, 
and  a  spreading  bottom — joined  and  made 
one,  since  all  are  parts  of  the  same  mirror. 
Joined,  but  how?  By  rivets,  usually. 
But  these  are  mere  material  links,  holding 
disk  to  handle  and  handle  to  base.  But 
how  join  a  circle  to  a  columnar  shaft  and 
this  in  turn  to  a  spreading  stand?  It  is 
easy  to  fuse  the  matter;  but  how  shall  we 
fuse  the  form?  The  straight  boundary- 
lines  of  the  shaft  should  swing  out  and 
curve  and  in  their  curve  go  over  into  the 
disk's  full  circle;  tlic  broad  bottom  of  the 
stand  should  rise  up  and  narrow  to  the 
shaft's  straight  ascent.  By  some  sort  of 
geometric  transition  each  characteristic 
shape  must  pass  over  into  the  adjoining 
one,  and  a  continuity  of  outline  must  hold 
all  three  fomis  togetlier  into  one. 

This  is  simple  and  good,  so  far;  l.)ut  is 
there  no  more  to  do?  are  the  surfaces 
within  these  interflowing  boundary-lines  to 
be  left  unformed?  If  the  shaft  holds  up  the 
disk,  it  can  make  that  service  compre- 
hensible to  us  not  merely  by  the  patent 


BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 


OF     GREEK    ART 

3 

facts  of  gravitational  support,   but   in   a 
!nore  direct  visual  manner. 

Perhaps  the  most  effectual  way  to  sug- 
gest to  the  beholder  this  function  of  sup- 
port would  be  to  model  the  shaft  into  the 
Ukeness  of  a  himian  being  who  carries  the 
disk  upon  his  head.     Looking  at  such  a 
representation,   one   could  hardly   fail  to 
appreciate  the  relation  between  shaft  and 
disk.    We  might  claim  that  gravitation  had 
been  as  it  were  visualised  and  given  to  us 
directly  by  a  sympathetic  analogy.     An- 
other way  to  suggest  this  function  of  sup- 
port might  be  to  seek  an  analogy  with 
architecture  and  to  carve  the  shaft  like  a 
fluted  colm-nn.     Our  apprehension  would 
then  be  less  immediate,  perhaps,  since  the 
appeal  to  human  experience  is  no  longer 
direct;  but  there  might  be  a  compensation 
in  the  up-and-down  of  the  fiuting-channels 
and  the  emphatic  simple  shape  divested  of 
all   irrelevant   associations.      Best   of   all, 
these  two  methods  might  be  combined. 
The  shaft  could  be  modelled  as  a  human 
figure  architecturally  formalised  by  means 
of  vertical  ridges  and  channelings  and  a 
• 

Functiun 

visualised 

A  X  D     M  O  N  OGR APHS 

I 

ESTHETIC    BASIS 


general  column-like  outline.  Then  the  ap- 
peal would  be  two-fold:  a  linear  unpic- 
torial  suggestion  borrowed  from  architec- 
ture would  be  fused  with  an  animate  rep- 
resentation, and  both  would  be  perfectly 
consonant  with  the  simple  mechanical  func- 
tion of  a  mirror-stand. 

There  M^ould  remain  only  the  transition 
from  the  shaft  to  the  disk,  to  be  *'ani- 
mised"  and  presented  in  some  sort  of  pic- 
torial analogy.  On  an  ancient  mirror 
loaned  to  the  Metropolitan  Museum  in 
New  York  two  little  winged  love-gods  fly 
above  either  shoulder  of  the  central  figure 
and  thereby  carry  the  outline  over  into  the 
curve  of  the  disk,  spreading  the  rectilinear 
shaft  out  into  a  circle.  To  justify  the 
occurrence  of  these  Erotes,  the  human- 
figured  shaft  has  become  Aphrodite,  whose 
presence  upon  a  mirror-support  needs  no 
excuse.  So,  everything  has  been  taken 
into  account — structure  and  shape  and 
meaning  and  use — and  the  result  is  not  a 
mere  blind  embellishment  to  make  pretti- 
ness  out  of  plainness,  but  an  ordered,  con- 
sonant, and  intellectual  humanisation  of  a 


BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 


OF    GREEK    ART 

5 

number  of  abstract  and  not  exactly  ob- 
vious properties  and  relations. 

And  therein,  it  would  seem,  lies  much  of 
the  characteristic  behavior  of  Greek  art— 
in  rethinking  certain  essential  matters  of 
structure,  purpose,  and  fitness,  and  in  re- 
embodying  them  in  a  fusion  of  geometric 
form  with  pictorial  illusion. 

"A  charming  thing!"  comments  the 
museum-goer  who  pauses  to  look  at  the  old 
mirror.  But  it  is  not  really  a  question  of 
charm;  it  is  a  question  of  a  language  which 
speaks  through  the  eye  instead  of  through 
the  ear,  but  appeals  just  as  insistently  and 
directly  to  the  intelligence  and  the  emotions 
of  the  stirred  imagination  as  do  the  spoken 
syllables  of  intelligible  speech.  As  a  prod- 
uct of  artistic  craftsmanship,  it  was  made 
not  for  a  vague  delight,  but  for  sharp  and 
definite  emotional  comprehension.  It  is 
not  such  stuff  as  dreams  are  made  on,  but 
a  product  of  logical  thought  of  a  very  par- 
ticular bent,  inventing  a  visual  embodi- 
ment for  itself  (in  conformity,  be  it  added, 
with  a  sense  for  loveliness). 

Into  the  inner  workings  of  this  "sense 

Greek  art 
self- 
conscious 

AND     MONOGRAPHS 

I 

and  open  to 
intellectual 
analysis 


ESTHETIC    BASIvS 


for  loveliness"  it  is  difficult  to  penetrate. 
Esthetic  philosophy  has  wasted  its  energy 
in  rather. a  priori  and  abstract  discussions 
of  the  nature  of  beauty.  It  has  perhaps 
succeeded  in  defining  its  realm,  but  it  has 
scarcely  managed  to  reduce  it  to  anything 
other  than  itself.  Be5''ond  the  restrictions 
of  such  theorising,  the  canon  of  taste  con- 
tinues to  operate  according  to  its  own  good 
pleasure. 

But  if  we  are  determined  not  to  enter 
upon  discussions  on  the  nature  of  the  beau- 
tiful in  art,  but  confine  ourselves  to  exam- 
ining the  worldng  of  this  ''logical  thought 
of  a  very  particular  bent,  inventing  a  vis- 
ual embodiment  for  itself,"  we  shall  be 
dealing  with  a  more  intellectual  process 
amenable  to  intellectual  analysis,  about 
which  words  can  be  written  and  read  and 
definite  ideas  formulated.  We  shall  find 
that  we  are  dealing  with  something  \'ery 
concrete  and  very  tangible,  concerning 
which  statements  may  be  made  with  a 
content  demonstrably  true  or  false.  By 
means  of  such  an  inqviiry  we  shall  not  be 
able  to  answer  the  question.  "What  con- 


B  R  Y  N     M  A  W  R     N  0  T  E  vS 


OF     GREEK    ART 


stitutes  good  art?"  but  we  should  be  able 
to  reply  intelligently  and  definitely  to  the 
question,  ''What  does  the  artistic  process 
do?  how  does  it  behave?"  In  the  specific 
field  of  ancient  Greek  art,  this  is  the  ques- 
ion  to  which  this  monograph  attempts  an 
answer. 


AND     MONOGRAPHS 


which  is  the 
purpose  of 
this  book 


A  more 
general 
beginning 


Art  is  the 
great 
magician 
who  makes 
life  of  the 
unliving 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


The  impulse  which  drives  man  to  employ 
imitative  art  for  the  purpose  which  we  call 
decoration — apart  from  those  utilitarian 
ends  which  magic  or  superstition  may 
suggest — is  (apparently)  the  desire  to  ani- 
mate the  inanimate  and  fill  the  unliving 
world  with  living  forms.  It  would  seem 
that  this  might  be  only  another  manifesta- 
tion of  that  tendency  to  regard  ever5rthing 
as  an  animate  agency  which  is  at  the  back 
of  pagan  religious  superstition.  Just  as 
the  primitive  man  peoples  his  stones  and 
trees,  his  hills  and  rivers,  with  living  spirits 
having  always  more  or  less  human  forms 
and  passions,  until  the  physical  world  of 
unfeeling  objects  about  him  lives  for  him 
as  a  more  intelligible  (even  though  not  al- 
ways more  companionable)  place  of  hu- 
manised demons,  so  the  craftsman  and 
artist  seizes  upon  inert  wood  and  stone  and 
metal,  and  converts  it  into  the  likeness  of 
animate  things,  that  he,  too,  may  people 
his  surroundings  and  raise  the  lifeless  to 
guise  of  the  living.    To  see  a  spirit  in  every 


BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 


OF     GREEK    ART 


tree  and  rock  and  fountain-head  and  cave 
and  stream,  and  to  see  a  resemblance  to  a 
living  creature  in  every  chance  outhne  and 
surface  and  pattern — these  are  scarcely  one 
and  the  same.  But  it  may  be  that  both 
hark  back  ultimately  to  the  same  primitive 
instinct.  The  child  makes  persons  out  of 
the  senseless  furnishings  of  his  nursery,  as 
the  savage  can  make  persons  out  of  his 
environing  objects  and,  with  fear  and  fail- 
ure working  on  him,  can  beget  him  a  fear- 
ful theogony.  But  where  the  savage  takes 
his  animism  for  terrific  and  malevolent 
truth  and  believes  in  all  the  spirits  of  wind 
and  com,  there  is  always  in  art  this  reaS' 
suring  measure  of  sophistication,  that 
craftsman  and  public  know  that  what  is 
imitated  is  not  truly  real,  but  a  work  of  un 
tyrannised  fancy.^  The  artist,  working  for 
delight  and  not  from  fear,  gives  us  again 
the  child's  pleasure  of  peopling  our  dull 
surroimdings  with  interesting  and  kindly 
life;  and  with  this  simple  pleasure  we  fuse 
those  more  intelligent  and  thoughtful  de- 
lights that  come  with  artistic  contempla- 
tion. 


AND  M  ONOGRAPHS 


10 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


This  conversion  of  things  whose  shape  is 
but  arbitrary  and  conventional  into  the  il- 
lusion of  nature-given  shapes  of  living 
things  plays  upon  us  with  a  thrill  that  I  can 
best  illustrate  by  offering  an  instance  of 
the  converse  process  of  converting  the 
chance  outlines  of  living  things  into  the 
stately,  immovable,  and  unbetterable  con- 
tours of  a  shape  of  art.  A  poet,  seeing 
girls  with  water-jugs  on  their  heads,  has 
written : 

Voici  bien,  0  Jacob,  le  geste  dont  tes 

filles 
Savent,  en  avan^ant   d'un  pas  jamais 

trop  prompt, 
Soutenir  noblement  I'amphore  sur  leur 

front. 
Elles  vont,  avec  un  sourire  taciturne, 
Et   leur    forme   s^ajonte    a    la  forme   de 

Vurne, 
Et  tout  leur  corps  11  est  plus  qu'un  vase 

svelte,  auquel 
Le  bras  leve  dessine  une  anse  sur  le  dell 

Much  of  the  wizardry  of  poetry  rests 
upon  this  same  instinct  for  animising  the 
inanimate  by  discovering   analogies  with 


BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 


OF     GREEK    ART 


living  things  or  informing  formless  things 
with  familiar  shapes : 

He  will  watch  from  dawn  to  gloom 
The  lake-reflected  sun  illume 
The  yellow  bees  in  the  ivy-bloom, 
Nor  heed  nor  see  what  things  they  be ; 
But  from  these  create  he  can 
Forms  more  real  than  living  man. 
Nurslings  of  immortality ! 

One  might  almost  maintain  that  it  is  the 
poet's  office  (like  the  artist's)  to  animise 
the  dead  world,  his  medium  being,  instead 
of  direct  visual  presentation,  the  verbal 
suggestion  attaching  to  epithet,  analogy, 
and  metaphor.  The  truth  of  such  a  state- 
ment would  of  course  have  to  be  proved  by 
an  appeal  to  the  whole  corpus  poeticiim; 
but  it  may  be  briefly  substantiated  by 
quoting  a  strophe  of  Shelley's  Ode  to  the 
West  Wind  as  an  outstanding  instance  of 
this  envitalising  instinct  of  poetic  art: 

O    wild    West    Wind,    thou    breath    of 

Autumn's  being, 
Thou,  from  whose  imseen   presence  the 

leaves  dead 


AND  MONOGRAPHS 


12  ESTHETIC    BASIS 


Are  driven,  like  gJwsts  from  an  enchanter 

fleeing, 
Yellow,  and  black,  and  pale,  and  hectic 

red, 
Pesiilcnce-stricken  multitudes:   O  thou, 
Who  chariotest  to  their  dark  wintry  bed 
The  winged  seeds,  where  they  lie  cold  and 

low, 
Each  like  a  corpse  within  its  grave,  until 
Thine  azure  sister  of  the  Spring  shall 

hloiv 
Her  clarion  o'er  the  dreaming  earth,  and 

fill 
{Driving  sweet  buds  like  flocks  to  Jeed  in 

air) 
With  living  hues  and  odours  plain  and 

hill: 
Wild  Spirit,  which   art  moving  every- 
where ; 
Destroyer  and  preserver;  hear,  oh,  hear! 

Every  element  of  the  windy  autumn  land- 
scape turns  to  living  form  and  animate 
activity.  Nor  does  the  rest  of  the  poem 
appreciably  abate  this  same  process  of 
verbal  sorcery. 

Craftsmen  in  all  times  and  places  have 
pursued  this  practice  of  artistic  animism. 


BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 


OF     {]  ]l\:  \i  K     ART 


13 


wliose  chief  procedure  is  the  discovery  of 
aiudogies  between  the  form  of  the  objects 
to  be  decorated  and  that  of  some  denizen 
of  the  animate  world.  Just  as  the  poet 
clutches  at  every  suggestion  of  similarity 
through  which  to  create  metaphors  by 
analogy  with  living  things,  so  the  Greek 
decorative  craftsman  sought  analogies  be- 
tween the  shapes  of  the  inanimate  objects 
on  which  he  worked  and  those  of  animate 
beings  into  whose  likeness  he  could  modify 
them.  The  "legs"  of  chairs  become  the 
legs  and  claws  of  beasts;  the  stand  of  a 
mirror  becomes  a  human  being;  the  shaft 
of  a  column  becomes  a  giant  or  a  maiden 
with  a  basket  on  her  head;  a  bracelet  be- 
comes a  twisted  snake;  the  ''nose"  of  a 
lamp  becomes  the  muzzle  of  a  beast;  the 
handles  of  a  cauldron  become  two  wrestlers 
leaning  over  at  grips  w4th  each  other.  In 
other  epochs,  weather-vanes  become  cock 
or  fish;  salt-cellars  are  ships  or  windmills 
(and  therefore  half-way  animate,  since  they 
now  can  appear  to  move);  nut-crackers 
are  dwarves;  andirons  are  beasts;  door- 
knockers are  demons;  bellows  are  dragons; 


AND     MONOGRAPHS 


14 

ESTHETIC     BASIS 

and  so  on,  without  limit,  but  b}^  no  means 
without  reason. 

Just  so  in  Egyptian  art  a  spoon  becomes 
a  <^irl  lying  prone  with  outstretched  arms 
holding  a  duck  whose  movable  wings  are 
covers  for  the  bowl  of  the  spoon.  In 
mediaeval  illuminations  the  initial  letters 
of  manuscripts  suggested  grotesque  animal 
analogies  to  the  embellishing  copyist. 

In  the  Scythian  art  of  the  Russian 
steppes  this  animistic  principle  finds  a 
characteristic  and  strange  complication: 
the  various  parts  of  an  animate  representa- 
tion are  in  their  turn  subjected  to  a  similar 
scrutiny  for  possible  analogies,  as  when  the 
antlers  of  a  deer  become  the  long-necked 
heads  of  birds  and  the  muscle-folds  at  the 
shoulders  acquire  beaks  and  eyes,  or  the 
wings  of  winged  lions  are  decorated  to  the 
semblance  of  fish.  In  the  Maya  art  of 
Central  America  the  very  same  practice 
obtains;  each  portion  of  a  pictured  person 
or  object  becomes  a  new  field  on  which  the 
artist  can  uncurb  his  imagination  until  the 
whole  surface  of  a  design  is  a  puzzle-pic- 

I 

BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 

OF     GREEK    ART 

15 

ture  of  ramifications  into  avian,  reptilian, 
floral,  and  human  motives. 

Greek  art  did  not  permit    itself    these 
mixed    metaphors    until    a    late    period. 
There  was  a  sound  esthetic  practice  which 
refrained  from  treating  an  animate  repre- 
sentation as  a  field  for  further  invention, 
since  to  do  so  would  be  to  destroy  the  or- 
ganic unity  and  animate  value  of  the  orig- 
inal  design.      The   esthetic   objection   to 
Scythian  and  Mayan  decoration  is  that  it 
fails  in  the  primary  purpose  of  raising  in- 
animate objects  to  an  animate  status.     We 
can  see  how  a  quiver-cover  might  become 
deer  or  gryphon  if  we  are  ready  to  allow 
that  inanimate  matter  may  be  informed  to 
an  organic  structure;  but  we  cannot  under- 
stand how  a  wing  can  be  a  fish  or  a  fish  be 
a  wing,  because  each  has  animate  existence 
in  its  own  right.     For  the  same  reason  an 
animate  representation  cannot  carry  irrel- 
evant decoration.     Greek  taste  would  not 
have  countenanced  the  Vettersfelde  fish, 
whose  scaly  body  is  adorned  with  animal 
motives  in  good  early  Ionic  style,  while 
his  double  tail  curls  up  into  rams'  heads; 

AND     MONOGRAPHS 

I 

16 

ESTHETIC    BASIS 

nor  would  it  have  approved  the  Kul  Oba 
gold  deer,  whose  flanl^s  are  overlaid  with 
image  of  gryphon,  hare,  lion,  and  dog.    Yet 
both  these  objects  were  probably  made  by 
Greeks — for  barbarian  trade. 

In  the  decorative  arts,  as  we  have  seen, 
the  representational  subject-matter  is  sug- 
gested by  the  chance  shape  and  appearance 
and  purpose  of  the  material  to  be  decorated. 
In  the  ''pure"  arts,  such  as  sculpture  and 
painting  when  they  are  producing  works 
which  have  no  other  use  or  purpose  than 
their  purely  artistic  and  esthetic  aim,  the 
choice  of  subject-matter  is  not  dependent 
on   the   invention   of   animate   analogies. 
Yet  theirs  is  the  same  underlying  impulse 
of  shaping  the  inert  and  merely  material 
into  the  illusion  of  animate  existence.     I 
cannot  therefore  see  much  merit  in  the 
current  distinction  between   ''pure"   and 
"applied"  arts,  between  the  work  of  art 
which  exists  in  its  own  right  merely  for  the 
artistic   pleasures   that   it   gives   and   the 
work  made  for  a  practical  and  utilitarian 
purpose  but  embellished  with  such  artistic 
touches  as  may  be  conveniently  and  in- 

I 

BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 

OF     GREEK    ART 

17 

cidentally  applied.      This  is  the  current 
conception  in  the  popular  niind;    but  of 
this  distinction  there  comes  but  little  good. 
Sooner  or  later  it  leads  to  the  impression 
that  art  is  something  external  to  material 
objects,  something  which  may  be  added  or 
omitted  at  will,  like  the  interior  furnishings 
of  a  house,  and  so  occasions  the  idea  of  the 
Superfiuousness    of    Things    Esthetic — an 
idea  which  is  only  too  commonly  the  pop- 
ular attitude  toward  art  nowadays.     This 
idea  still  has  a  tenacious  hold  upon  archi- 
tecture and  even  upon  professional  archi- 
tects, who  are  prone  to  act  as  though  they 
thought  that  artistic  effects  were  something 
accessory  which  were  only  added  for  the 
sake  of  good  appearances. 

In  "pure"  and  "applied"  art  alike,  we 
shall  find   among  the   Greeks  this   same 
process  of  animism,  so  that  it  should  occa- 
sion little  surprise  that  the  subject-matter 
of  Greek  art  is  almost  wholly  confined  to 
the  world  of  men  and  animals  and  that  the 
Greek  artists  showed  little  fondness  for 
portraying  inanimate  nature.     So  strongly 
did  they  feel  their  province  to  be  with  the 

Therefore 
art  imitates 
the  ani- 
mate: 
Greek  art 
most  of  all 

AND     MONOGRAPHS 

I 

18 

ESTHETIC    BAvSIS 

higher  animate  forms  that  they  rethought 
the  inanimate,  wherever  possible,  into  ani- 
mate terms  which  could  be  substituted  for 
it.     This  practice,  which  may  be  consid- 
ered fundamental  in  their  attitude  toward 
art,  necessitated  a  sort  of  symbolism  in 
terms  of  animate  objects.     Thus,  though  a 
chevron  or  scroll  may  often  typify  water, 
the  favorite  method  was  to  select  some 
aquatic  animal.     The  beast  stands  for  its 
habitat.     A  crab  at  the  foot  of  a  boulder 
gives  us  the  Saronic  Gulf  washing  the  base 
of  the  Scironian  cliffs;   dolphins  stand  for 
the  sea,  freshwater  fish  for  rivers,  a  heron 
for  marshland,  a  swan  for  a  lake.'    At  times 
the  symbolism  seems  forced,  as    when    a 
maid  stands  for  a  spring  of  virgin  water, 
or  a  man-headed  bull  for  a  roaring  stream; 
but  that  is  because  we  to-day  have  dropped 
out  an  essential  link  in  the  chain  and  for- 
gotten how  the  Greek  mind  peopled  foun- 
tain, tree,  and  hill,  and  river  with  local 
divinities — an  instance  of  this  same  proc- 
ess  of   animising   natural   phenomena  by 
visualising  them  in  animal  or  human  form. 
Largely  because  of  this  process  (but  also 

I 

BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 

OF     GREEK    ART 


because  the  Greek  was  little  interested  in 
showing  in  his  art  those  objects  whose 
typical  form  he  could  not  clearly  catch) 
Greek  artists  paid  so  little  attention  to 
landscape.  A  large  part  of  the  delight  of 
landscape-composition  lies  in  the  s^'-nthesis 
of  intelligible  but  rather  haphazard  ap- 
pearances into  a  design  full  of  the  illusion 
of  spatial  depth  and  into  a  color  harmony 
full  of  the  suggestion  of  lights  and  shadows ; 
but  of  typical  form  there  is  little,  and  of 
human  analogy  there  is  none.  A  Greek 
mountain  has  only  its  skyline;  the  rest  of 
it  is  a  flat  plane  with  haphazard  splotches 
of  rock,  herbage,  and  tree.  Each  tree  may 
have  a  characteristic  shape  when  examined 
singly  and  close  at  hand;  but  at  a  dis- 
tance, merged  with  others,  it  contributes 
vaguely  to  a  whole  which  has  no  unity  of 
structure  or  necessity  of  interior  form. 
On  the  Arezzo  amphora  where  Pelops  car- 
ries Hippodameia  on  his  chariot,  the  es- 
sential constituents  of  the  landscape  are 
timidly  and  disjointedly  given;  above,  a 
lightly  scratched  profile  typifies  mountains 
against  the  sky  (those  marvellous  moun- 


A  X  D     MONOGRAPH  S 


20 

ESTHETIC    BASIS 

Lains  of  the  opposing  shoreland  that 
stand  so  glorious  across  the  blue  Corinthian 
Gulf);  by  the  chariot  two  isolated  tree- 
forms  suggest  the  olive-groves  of  the 
Achaean  shoreland;  in  front,  a  wave  pat- 
tern and  a  plunging  dolphin  symbolise  the 
windy  blue  reach  of  sea.  But  there  is  no 
synthesis  of  a  seen  and  solid  landscape. 
The  actual  and  complex  scenic  setting  was 
apparently  formless  to  the  Greek  mind: 
there  was  no  way  of  drawing  it,  and  there 
was  no  way  of  animising  it. 

It  may  be  remarked  in  passing  that  our 
discussion  suggests  that  a  scrutiny  of  Greek 
drawings  and  sculpture  will  throw  no  light 
on  that  often-raised  and  rather  fruitless 
question  whether  the  ancients  were  sen- 
sitive to  the  beauties  of  Nature.  From  the 
striking  absence  of  landscape  scenes, 
whether  of  forest  or  cornland  or  olive  groves 
or  rocky  shores  or  pine-covered  heights,  no 
conclusion  may  be  drawn  as  to  the  senti- 
ments of  the  ancient  people  who  lived  in 
that  (still  to-day)  marvellously  beautiful 
country-side.  2 

In   Greek   art    Nature   is  rethought  in 

I 

BRYN     MAWR     NOTES 

O  F     GREEK    A  R  T 


terms  of  human  or  animal  analogy.  Greek 
coins  are  the  locus  classicus  for  a  study  of 
the  workings  of  this  process. 

We  of  to-day  are  generally  content  to 
convey  our  meaning  on  our  coins  by  en- 
graving verbal  information:  "United 
States  of  America  One  Dime  E  Pluribus 
Unum  Liberty  1921  In  God  We  Trust." 
To  this  expHcit  announcement  the  "art" 
is  fairly  superfluous,  something  by  way  of 
ornament  and  cultural  tradition.  Any 
more  or  less  frigid  allegory  will  serve;  a 
young  woman  with  a  Phrygian  bonnet  will 
visually  embody  the  abstract  concept 
Liberty,  however  little  connection  there 
may  be  apparent  between  idea  and  symbol. 
The  Greek  used  more  thought  and  was  more 
conscious  of  his  aim.  He  used  non-repre- 
sentational matter  such  as  letters  and 
legend  very  sparingly  and  succeeded  in  im- 
parting a  surprising  amount  in  purely 
visual  terms.  On  the  coins  of  the  various 
ancient  cities  the  geographical  situation, 
the  historical  and  mythical  events  of  the 
past,  often  the  very  names  of  the  towns  and 


AND     MONOGRAPHS 


21 


The  in- 
animate 
must  be  re- 
thought in 
animate 
terms 


22 

ESTHETIC     BASIS 

the  value  of  the  coin  were  all  conveyed  with- 
out a  single  written  word.            .  • 

Syracuse  showed  its  spring  of  pure 
water  on  a  sea-girt  island  (the  fountain 
Arethusa  on  Ortygia)  as  a  young  girl's 
head  encircled  by  dolphins.  The  lake  into 
which  near  Camarina  a  river  widened  be- 
fore it  reached  the  sea  was  shown  by  a 
nymph  upon  a  floating  swan  surrounded 
by  a  scroll  of  little  waves,  while  on  the 
other  side  of  the  coin  a  horned  river-god 
with  a  sea-fish  below  him  told  the  rest  of 
the  geography.  At  Selinus  the  story  of 
Empedocles'  success  in  draining  the  pesti- 
lential swamp  was  converted  into  terms  of 
gods  and  bulls  and  marsh-birds  and  other 
simple  visual  apparatus.  At  Syracuse  a 
four-drachma  piece  had  a  four-horse 
chariot,  rmd  two  horses  and  a  single  horse 
indicated  the  two-drachma  and  the  one- 
drachma  pieces,  while  a  wheel,  as  part  of  a 
chariot,  was  used  for  subdivisions  of  the 
drachma.  There  were  no  inscriptions 
stating  the  current  value  of  these  coins. 

The  freciuent  ''punning"  or  "canting 
badges,"  such  as  the  rose  for  Rhodes,  the 

I 

B  R  Y  N     M  A  W  R     NOTES 

OF     GREEK    ART 


goat  for  Aegae,  were  due  to  the  desire  to 
set  even  so  unvisual  a  thing  as  the  name  of 
the  town  into  representational  form. 

In  order  to  succeed  in  so  thorough-going 
a  conversion  into  visual  terms,  art  obvi- 
ously must  have  recourse  to  symbolism; 
and  to  this  extent  Greek  art  became  sym- 
bolic, since  its  reprcsentata  often  stood  for 
things  other  than  themselves — as  when  a 
swan  and  nymph  stand  for  a  lake,  a  man- 
headed  bull  for  a  river,  a  marsh-bird  for  a 
marsh,  or  an  object  for  its  homonym  (Hke 
Rliodes  and  the  rose).  But  there  was  no 
mystic  or  mysterious  intention  and  none  of 
that  deliberate  obscurantism  with  which 
symbolism  has  so  often  allied  itself.  The 
symbolism  of  Greek  coins  was  a  kind  of 
picture-writing;  but  it  was  not  a  hieratic 
script  with  an  esoteric  meaning  for  the 
initiate  (as  Christian  iconography  was  at 
times),  nor  was  there  anything  arbitrary 
and  inevident  in  the  relation  between  sym- 
bol and  meaning,  as  tends  to  be  the  case 
when  symbolism  has  literary  or  ritual  as- 
sociations. It  was  not  in  an  effort  to  point 
at    mysteries   or  to  obscure  the  obvious 


AND  MONOGRAPHS 


23 


which 

produces 

symbolism 


but  for  no 

mystical 

purpose 


34 


EvSTHETIC    BASIS 


with  pretended  subtleties,  that  Greek  art 
had  recourse  to  symbols. 

The  Greek  taste  insisted  on  a  thorough 
fusion  of  intellectual  and  artistic  content, 
so  that  neither  should  obtrude  itself  to  the 
detriment  of  the  other.  The  Arethusa 
heads  on  Syracusan  coins  owe  nothing  of 
their  artistic  excellence  to  an  understand- 
ing of  their  reference  to  a  sea-girt  island; 
nor  is  the  simple  picture-language  ob- 
scured by  irrelevancies  added  to  improve 
the  design  or  increase  the  artistic  appeal. 
This  canon  is  markedly  inapplicable  to  the 
arbitrary  and  conventional  symbolism  of 
mediaeval  iconography,  where  not  to  be 
initiate  in  the  meaning  is  often  to  miss  the 
artistic  intention.  The  Greek  artist  was 
evidently  no  mystic:  knowing  clearly  what 
he  was  about,  he  merely  strove  to  make  his 
intention  equally  clear  to  others. 


BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 


OF     GREEK     ART 

25 

Having  reduced  the  material  content  of 
his  design  to  simple  animate  visual  terms, 
the  Greek  coin-engraver  further  limited  his 
range  by  making  these  terms  conform  to 
the  material  medium  and  to  the  shape  and 
size  of  the  field  and  background.     Coin- 
stamping  was  a  kind  of  relief  sculpture  in 
silver  and  gold,  and  no  visual  conception 
was  acceptable  unless  it  was  appropriate  to 
such  an  art.     A  town  near  a  lake  is  in  itself 
a  visible  thing,  which  can  be  shown  by 
di-awing;    but   it   was   unfitting  to  those 
formal  artistic  demands  which  coin-design 
suggested  to  a  Greek  artist.     The  nymph 
and  the  swan  were  animate  equivalents, 
sculptural    subject-matter,    amenable    to 
spatial  arrangement  within  a  circle  as  a  bal- 
anced pattern  with  ordered  lines  and  sur- 
faces.    They  had  not  merely  an  intellec- 
tualised  meaning  as  symbolic  of  a  god-held 
(and    therefore    man-beneighbored)    lake, 
but  an  artistic  import,  in  that  they  em- 
bodied artistic  form  and  evoked  artistic 
emotion.      Heads,  rather   than  full-length 

Our  first 
conclusion: 
Greek  art 
was  very 
well  aware 
that  art's 
true 

province  is 
the  repre- 
sentation of 
animate 
things.    We 
now  ask 
how  this 
animate 
representa- 
tion was 
performed 

AND     MONOGRAPHS 

I 

26 

ESTHETIC    BASIS 

figures,  became  favorite  coin  designs,  be- 
cause the  small  size  of  the  coin  admitted 
sufficient  detail  for  such  a  theme  (but  not 
for  a  larger  one)  while  the  metal  was  espe- 
cially fitted  for  those  contrasts  of  smooth 
surfaces  and  chased  areas  which  the  sub- 
ject occasioned.     And,  finally,  there  was 
an  inherent  harmony  of  shape  between 
coin  and  head,  combined  with  an  effective 
contrast  between  the  unvaried  ciurve  of  the 
one  and  the  changing  profile-lines  of  the 
other.     With  us  the  presence  of  heads  on 
coins  is  rather  an  empty  tradition:    with 
the  Greeks  it  was  a  discovery  of  the  in- 
herent  fitness   of  the  theme   to   all   the 
artistic  requirements  which  could  legiti- 
mately arise.     It  became  canonised,  be- 
cause of  its  artistic  rightness,  in  days  when 
no  mortal  except  the  distant  Persian  king 
yet  dared  to  put  his  own  image  on  a  coin 
to  mark  his  own  greatness  and  authority. 
It  has  survived  for  reasons  of  political  and 
dynastic  convenience  rather  than  through 
any  feeling  for  the  singularly  happy  solu- 
tion which  it  offers  to  a  difficult  artistic 
problem. 

I 

BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 

OF    GREEK    ART 


We  have  considered  various  impulses 
and  interests  which  determined  the  choice 
of  artistic  subject-matter  in  Greek  art. 
And  it  has  been  indicated  that  the  artistic 
procevSS  did  not  consist  wholly  in  servile 
imitation  of  seen  appearances  to  the  best  of 
the  workman's  technical  ability.  On  the 
contrary,  the  representational  subject- 
matter  is  presented  imder  the  modifications 
imposed  by  artistic  forms.  Art  has  its 
own  devices  of  harmonisation  of  part  to 
part,  its  own  devices  of  spatial  suggestion, 
its  own  devices  for  arousing  and  appealing 
to  the  esthetic  sensibilities;  and  to  the 
dictates  and  demands  of  these  devices  the 
representational  subject-matter  must  con- 
form. Our  study  passes  therefore  from  the 
subject-matter  of  Greek  Art  to  the  Forms 
of  its  Artistic  Presentation. 


AN  D     MONOGRAPHS 


27 


Whicli 

leads  us 

into  a  new 

field  of 

inquiry 

28 

ESTHETIC    BASIvS 

II 

THE    FORMS    OF   ARTISTIC 
PRESENTATION 

An  often  used  (but  perhaps  not  over-used) 
analogy  speaks  of  art  as  though  it  were  a 
language.      In  place  of  sounds   art  uses 
seen  appearances  and  arranges  these  ac- 
cording to  its  own  syntax  and  grammar  in 
order  to  convey  its  artistic  meaning.     The 
analogy  is  inexact  because  the  sounds  which 
we  use  as  words  are  nothing  in  themselves, 
whereas  the  sights  of  art  are  iinitations  of 
independently   existent    objects.      Never- 
theless the  comparison  has  the  very  great 
value  of  diverting  the  attention  from  the 
mere  representational  subject-matter  of  art 
and   directing  it   toward   non-representa- 
tional form.     As  this  is  the  initial  step  in 
esthetics  which  the  general  public  is  so  loth 
and  so  slow  to  take,  there  is  no  better 
philosophic  approach  than  this  metaphor 
or  comparison. 

Under  this  analogy,  the  reprcscntata  of 

I 

BRYN     MAWR     NOTES 

OF     GREEK    ART 


art  do  service  as  the  words  of  the  language. 
The  formal  arrangement  is  the  grammar 
and  syntax.  The  esthetic  emotion  is  the 
meaning.  In  order  to  impart  this  emo« 
tion,  the  artist  puts  representata  in  artistic 
form — very  much  as  we  put  sounds  which 
are  words  in  coherent  grammatical  con- 
struction in  order  to  impart  intelligible 
information.  Under  the  same  analogy, 
just  as  we  cannot  make  a  sentence  with- 
out syntax,  we  cannot  make  art  without 
artistic  form;  and  just  as  a  sentence  with 
correct  grammar  may  yet  have  only  an 
idle  or  empty  meaning,  so  representata  in 
artistic  form  may  have  only  a  trivial  or 
empty  emotional  ^•alue.  Accurate  repre- 
sentation through  painting  or  drawing,  and 
accurate  imitation  through  modelling,  will 
not  in  themselves  constitute  art,  any  more 
than  a  random  picking-up  of  words  con- 
stitutes a  use  of  language. 

The  representational  subject-matter, 
moulded  to  artistic  forms,  fuses  its  imita- 
tive content  with  their  non-representational 
appeal;  from  this  fusion  results  the  mate- 
rial of  our  esthetic  contemplation.      The 


AND     MONOGRAPHS 


29 


A  piiiuary 
distinction 
of  great  im- 
portance 
for  the 
argument 


30 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


mind,  trying  to  understand  what  it  is  that 
the  eyes  are  conveying  to  it,  is  at  the  same 
time  affected  by  the  purely  formal  emotions 
of  linear  structure,  pattern,  balance,  and  a 
host  of  half-unclear  suggestions  and  ap- 
peals; and  all  this  emotional  stimulation 
fuses  with  the  recognition  of  the  object 
represented.  On  the  appropriateness  or 
unappropriateness  of  the  formal  emotion 
depends  the  whole  colour  and  feeling  of  our 
recognition.  Indeed,  the  fact  that  our 
recognition  is  more  than  a  mere  identifying 
and  naming  of  the  object,  that  it  is  an 
esthetic  perception  with  a  distinct  emo- 
tional colouring,  seems  to  be  due  prin- 
cipally to  two  causes:  (1)  the  knowledge 
that  the  represented  object  is  an  illusion, 
and  not  a  real  object  which  must  be 
treated  as  we  treat  real  objects  in  our  real 
world,  and  (2)  the  fusion  of  representa- 
tional illusion  with  something  non-repre- 
sentational and  yet  emotionally  appro- 
priate to  the  representation  in  which  it 
occurs. 

Our  argument  is  much  in  need  of  con- 
crete illustration;    and  for  this  purpose  a 


B  R  Y  N     U A  W  R     NOTE  S 


OF     GREEK    ART 


very  well-known  statue  from  the  opening 
years  of  tlie  fifth  century  will  serve  ad- 
mirably. 

With  so  generous  an  admixture  of  Thor- 
waldsen's  restorations  in  them,  the  pedi- 
mental  figures  from  Aegina  cannot  be  used 
without  caution.  But  the  kneeling  archer 
with  the  lion's-head  cap,  the  so-called 
Herakles,  has  suffered  less  than  most  of 
his  comrades  and  is  apparently  original 
save  for  his  right  forearm  and  the  lower 
part  of  his  left  leg.  The  pose  and  the  out- 
line are  therefore  assured,  and  Furt- 
waengler's  investigations  leave  little  doubt 
as  to  the  angle  from  which  he  was  intended 
to  be  seen.  It  can  scarcely  be  accident 
that  from  this  point  of  view,  as  from  no 
other,  the  figure  pattemises  to  an  intensely 
formal  presentation  in  which  an  almost 
diagrammatic  indication  of  the  mechanics 
of  an  archer  drawing  his  bow  dominates 
the  pattern.  In  the  shooting  of  an  arrow 
two  forces  are  prominent,  the  strain  of  the 
bow-string  back-drawn  and  the  impetus  of 
the  released  arrow  on  its  flight.  The 
strain  and  the  direction-of -flight  are  nearly 


AND     MONOGRAPHS 


An  example 


32 


ESTHETIC     B  A  S  I  vS 


at  right  angles  to  the  body  of  the  archer. 
To  offset  this  strain,  a  bowman  will  com- 
municate its  thrust  through  some  diag- 
onal prop  or  pose  of  his  legs.  Were  we  to 
make  a  diagram  of  the  mechanics  of  an 
archer  drawing  a  bow,  it  would  look  almost 
like  a  diagrammatic  simplification  of  the 
sculptured  figure  of  Herakles.  "Natu- 
rally" (one  might  say),  "because  if  those 
are  the  actual  mechanics  of  a  man  shooting 
a  bow.  the  archer  cannot  help  displaying 
them."  But  the  truth  of  the  matter  is 
that  he  can  very  easily  avoid  displaying 
them,"  for  the  mechanical  strain  and 
counter-adjustment  are  within,  and  not 
along  the  surface  line  of  his  limbs  and 
clothes.  That  the  pose  can  be  shown 
without  right  angles  or  supporting  diagon- 
als is  patent  from  numerous  drawings  of 
bowmen  which  can  be  foimd  in  modern 
illustrations,  l^ut  in  the  Aeginetan  war- 
rior every  line  that  is  not  suggestive  of 
these  forces  is  rigorously  altered  or  sup- 
pressed. Even  the  ornamentation  of  the 
jerkin  is  made  of  squares  and  right  angles 
above  and  diagonal  folds  below,  as  though 


B  R  Y  N     ]\I  A  W  R     NOTES 


OF     GREEK    ART 


to  force  the  eye  into  picking  up  th^it  no- 
tion. Thanks  to  the  lion's-head  cap,  even 
the  head-form  of  Herakles  is  square.  And 
what  could  better  evoke  the  emotion  of  the 
straight,  swift  flight  of  an  arrow  when  the 
string  is  loosed,  than  the  long,  forward 
stretch  of  arm  with  the  flickering  motion- 
line  of  its  contours? 

Of  course  the  artistic  intent  is  not  to 
present  a  dynamic  graph  of  the  equilibrium 
of  forces:  art  is  not  interested  in  the  in- 
tellectual presentation  of  physico-mathe- 
matical  information.  The  purpose  of  the 
device  is  to  awaken  in  the  spectator  a  sense 
that  there  are  such  forces  at  work,  in  order 
that  what  he  sees  may  not  be  only  a  casual 
picture  on  his  retina  but  may  come  to  him 
as  an  apprehension  of  a  thing  muscularly 
alive  and  full  of  powerful  forces.  While 
we  are  recognising  the  carved  and  coloured 
marble  as  Herakles  the  Bowman,  we  are 
at  the  same  time  being  affected  by  purely 
fonnal  emotions;  and  this  emotion  fuses 
with  our  recognition  to  produce  the  whole 
emotional  state  of  our  artistic  contempla- 
tion. 


AND     MONOGRAPH  vS 


34 


The  prim- 
ary distinc- 
tion again 


Pure  forms 
per  se  are 
not 
significant 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


In  the  statue  of  Herakles  the  right  angles 
in  which  the  Unes  and  masses  meet  do  not 
in  themselves  represent  anything,  any 
more  than  a  geometric  theorem  repre- 
sents actual  objects  (however  much  actual 
objects  may  exemplify  and  embody  geo- 
metric theorems).  The  right  angles  are 
a  pure  form:  pure,  because  we  are  consid- 
ering them  apart  from  any  material  con- 
tent or  representational  significance;  form, 
because  they  are  an  abstract  schema  into 
which  representational  matter  may  be 
fitted,  as  the  kneeling  man  is  fitted  into  the 
abstract  pattern  of  lines. 

What  is  the  emotional  value  of  this  ab- 
stract pattern?  That  would  be  hard  to 
say.  It  is  possible  to  make  a  drawing  of 
such  an  underlying  pattern  without  sug- 
gesting the  silhouette  of  a  human  figure, 
and  any  one  may  experiment  on  himself  to 
see  whether  he  derives  any  emotion  from 
contemplating  such  a  pattern  (provided  he 
is  able  to  look  at  it  without  thinking  of  it 
as  a  picture  of  a  kneeling  man  or  any  other 
recognisable  object  of  the  real  world).  My 
own  experience  is  that  I  have  no  clear  or 


BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 


OF     GREEK    ART 


definite  emotions  from  such  a  test.  If  I 
were  to  assert  that  I  derived  feelings  of 
solidity,  maintenance  of  equilibrium  amid 
disturbing  forces,  power,  endurance,  or  any 
similar  sensations,  I  should  be  quite  dis- 
honest with  myself  and  be  doing  consid- 
erable violence  to  my  real  state  of  mind  in 
forcing  myself  to  believe  that  I  was  having 
any  sort  of  definite,  vivid,  tangible  emo- 
tion. But  that  I  am  affected  (however  un- 
analysably,  however  vaguely,  as  though  by 
a  dream  without  characters  or  scene)  I 
could  honestly  maintain;  and  as  the  lines 
and  surfaces  are  changed  and  the  pattern 
changes  with  them,  I  can  appreciate  that 
my  affection  alters  pari  passu.  But  it  is 
only  when  this  abstract  play  of  lines  and 
angles  and  surface-shapes  appears  incar- 
nate in  recognisable  objects  derived  from 
the  real  world  of  my  experience,  that  it 
seems  to  get  sufficient  emotional  focus  and 
bearing  for  me  to  appreciate  clearly  (or 
even  describe)  its  character  and  range. 

This  is  the  reef  on  which  non-representa- 
tional sculpture  and  painting  strikes  and 
founders.     In  very  recent  times  there  have 


AND     MONOGRAPHS 


35 


and  there- 
fore cannot 
stand  alone 


36 


ESTHETIC     BASIS 


been  attempts  at  a  purely  "dynamic"  art 
in  which  we  are  asked  to  apprehend  merely 
the  emotion  of  surfaces,  the  clash  of  forces, 
the  strife  of  line,  the  delights  of  linear 
motion,  the  appeal  of  contrasted  and 
mingled  colours.  But  no  matter  how  we 
educate  our  sensibilities,  we  can  never  ex- 
perience anything  tangible  or  definite  out 
of  these  disembodied  pure  forms.  The 
play  cannot  go  on  without  characters. 
The  spiritual  kernel  of  a  drama  may  be 
\'ery  abstract  and  lofty  and  vague  and 
universal;  but  unless  it  embody  itself  in 
concrete  human  actors  who  speak  intel- 
ligible words,  those  spiritual  powers  will 
never  recreate  themselves  in  the  minds  of 
an  audience.  Representational  art  is  rep- 
resentational not  by  accident  but  because 
only  so  can  it  have  its  full  effect.  How- 
ever, this  effectiveness  does  not  lie  in  the 
mere  picturing  of  objects  from  the  real 
world,  but  in  a  successful  fusion  of  this  ol)- 
jective  matter  with  the  formal  suggestions 
which  are  the  province  of  the  particular 
art. 

Seldom  is  the  reason  for  the  appropriate- 


BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 


OF     GREEK     ART 


ness  of  a  particular  pattern  to  a  given 
work  of  art  so  manifest  as  in  the  Herakies 
from  Aegina.  And  yet  most  of  us,  if  we 
are  sensitive  to  the  appeal  of  sculpture  or 
painting,  are  aware  and  can  feel  (e\'en 
though  we  cannot  assign  a  reason  for  our 
impressions)  whenever  a  pattern  or  play  of 
line  contributes  to  the  emotion  with  which 
we  contemplate  an  instance  of  those  arts. 
In  fact,  it  is  a  plausible  theory  that  one 
essential  distinction  between  esthetic  and 
ordinary  contemplation  is  the  appreciation 
of  abstract  formal  values  in  the  field  of 
vision  and  the  fusion  of  these  with  the 
normal  process  of  recognition  of  the  ob 
jects,  so  that  there  results  an  emotional 
(instead  of  a  merely  pragmatic  or  prac 
tical)  apprehension.  If  this  is  so — formal 
values  being  accidental  in  Nature  and  not 
generally  looked  for  by  the  spectator,  but 
deliberately  chosen  for  their  influence  and 
appropriateness  by  the  artist  and  intro- 
duced into  his  work — it  should  be  obvious 
why  esthetic  contemplation  may  be  emo- 
tionally so  much  more  intense  when  it  is 
directed  toward  a  "copy  of  Nature"  such 


AND     MONOGRAPHS 


38 

ESTHETIC    BASIS 

as  a  work  of  painting  or  sculpture,  than  it 
is  when  in  the  presence  of  Nature  itself, 
from  which  all  such  art  confessedly  derives 
its  material  themes. 

3 

I 

B  R  Y  N     MA  W  R     NOTES 

OF     GREEK    ART 


I  have  referred  to  the  modernist  sugges- 
tion that  pure  forms  might  he  created 
without  any  representational  content.  It 
is  worth  a  moment's  attention,  since  it  will 
have  an  ultimate  bearing  on  our  theory  of 
Greek  art. 

In  a  certain  London  studio  I  was 
once  shown  an  inlaid  table-top  whose 
geometric  assortment  and  arrangement  of 
planes  and  lines  were  intended  to  give  me 
(so  I  was  told)  emotions  of  speed  and  power, 
of  thwarted  effort,  and  energy  ready  to 
burst  forth.  But  I  stood  dully  by  and  felt 
none  of  this  intarsiate  vitality  rush  over 
me.  For  it  is  not  abstract  speed  and 
power  that  I  can  understand,  but  the  speed 
of  a  railway  train  or  the  power  of  a  goaded 
ox.  Nor  does  the  flying  apart  of  six-inch 
lines  give  me  a  sense  of  flight  except  on  a 
six-inch  scale;  but  if  I  have  the  illusion 
that  those  lines  are  somehow  (let  us  say) 
morsels  of  clod  and  bridge-rail,  something 
of  the  sundering  energy  of  a  bursted  shell 
comes   vividly    before   my    senses.      The 


AND     MONOGRAPHS 


40 


but  must 
be  fused 
with  repre- 
sentational 
illusion 


The  same 
argument 
in  another 
instance: 
Pure  forms 
in  painting 


ESTHETIC     B  A  vS  I  vS 


table-top  was  a  demonstration  in  pure  form. 
It  was  also  a  demonstration  of  the  futility 
of  such  fonnal  effects  when  they  are  not 
immanent  in  the  illusion  of  sensuous  ob- 
jects, amid  whose  time  and  space  we  .put 
ourselves  with  that  strange  sympathetic 
power  which  we  employ  whenever  we  see 
pictures  in  a  mere  square  of  painted  cloth. 

By  considering  the  art  of  painting,  it  is 
still  easier  to  establish  our  argument  con- 
cerning the  artistic  function  of  pure  fonns. 

The  most  obvious  and  easily  distinguish- 
able pure  forms  which  painting  employs 
are  line,  mass,  colour  relations,  from  which 
are  occasioned  motion,  pattern,  and 
rhythm,  with  their  accessories  balance  and 
thrust.  I  call  these  pure  forms  because 
they  are  independent  of  the  subject-matter 
of  the  picture.  They  could  exist  whether 
the  picture  represented  anything  or  not, 
and  it  is  irrelevant  to  their  existence 
whether  the  represented  objects  are  rightly 
or  wrongly  drawn.  They  are  pure  forms, 
therefore,  because  they  are  not  represenlata 
but  schemata  into  which  representata  may 
be  fitted.     They  are  abstract  in  the  same 


BRYN     MAWR     NOTES 


OF    GREEK    ART 


sense  that  geometric  figures  or  kaleido- 
scopic designs  are  abstract,  having  for  con- 
tent no  objects  of  the  world  of  experience, 
governed  not  by  fidelity  to  Nature,  but 
formulable  according  to  some  intellectual 
requirement,  expressible  perhaps  in  mathe- 
matical terms. 

How  can  line  in  an  actual  concrete  paint- 
ing be  an  abstract  form?  does  it  not  always 
bound  or  enliven  the  objects  represented? 
then  where  is  the  abstraction,  where  the 
irrelevance  to  the  represented  object? 

True;  but  suppose  that  we  isolate  vari- 
ous lines  by  removing  them  from  a  picture 
and  putting  them  by  themselves.  For 
lack  of  context,  we  have  no  notion  of  the 
objects  which  these  lines  helped  to  depict 
We  are  treating  them  as  unrepresenta- 
tional  lines,  as  lines  that  show  nothing. 
Are  they  all  emotionally  alike?  do  we  get 
the  same  feeling  from  every  one?  Not 
quite.  We  may  be  somewhat  at  a  loss  on 
being  asked  to  derive  emotions  from  them 
at  all.  The  performance  is  artificial  and 
savoiu-s  of  the  supersensitive  behaviour  of 
the  avowed  esthete.     But  I  do  not  suggest 


41 


AND     MONOGRAPHS 


are  not 
significant 
per  se 


42 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


glutting  a  healthy  appetite  on  a  morning 
rose,  nor  pretend  that  the  contemplation  of 
a  page  covered  with  lines  of  varying  curva- 
ture should  yield  any  profound  emotional 
state.  My  theorem  is  quite  simple  and 
rather  banale.  A  straight  line  looks  stiff; 
certain  curves  appeal  to  us  as  graceful; 
wavy  lines  have  a  restless  effect;  and  more 
complex  lines  compound  more  complicated 
phenomena  of  the  same  general  sort.  That 
is  all  that  I  mean  by  emotions  derived  from 
contemplating  lines — very  vague,  rather 
undefinable  impressions.  Whether  they 
are  suggestions  borrowed  from  familiar  ob- 
jects which  show  that  particular  line,  or 
reactions  due  to  an  instinctive  appeal  to 
our  gravitational  and  muscular  sense,  or 
products  of  our  intellectual  appreciation 
of  the  relations  of  the  various  component 
portions  of  these  lines,  is  a  matter  of 
psychological  mquiry  which  is  ii'relevant 
here  and  of  no  particular  importance  for 
the  contention.  If  to  this  vague  and 
feeble  degree  we  are  prepared  to  say  that 
lines  are  not  emotionally  alike,  no  matter 
whether    we    can    define    or    clearly    dis- 


BRYN     MAWR     NOTES 


OF     GREEK    ART 


tinguish  our  feelings  about  them,  if  we  are 
ready  to  say  that  not  merely  do  the  lines 
differ  one  from  another,  but  that  we  differ 
when  we  look  at  one  line  and  another, 
however  slight  and  however  trivial  w^e  judge 
this  difference  to  be — then  I  have  estab- 
lished the  purely  formal  character  of  lines. 
But  lines  may  also  be  representational. 
Such  and  such  a  combination  of  lines  de- 
picts such  and  such  an  object — a  tree,  a 
fish,  a  frog,  the  Virgin  Mary.  Does  a  line 
lose  its  formal  value,  the  moment  we  see 
that  it  represents  a  real  object  to  us? 
Just  here  is  the  fundament  and  base  of  the 
contention.  From  the  fusion  of  the  two 
aspects  of  a  line — its  purely  formal  value 
with  its  representational  quality — arises  a 
new  thing  which  I  call  the  esthetic  or 
artistic  emotion.  This  new  thing,  which 
may  be  surprisingly  intense  and  vivid,  is 
not  discoverable  either  in  the  represented  ob- 
ject per  se  or  in  the  mere  formal  value  of  the 
lines  used.  It  is  a  product  of  the  fusion, 
often  as  unexpected  and  as  novel  as  a 
chemical  reaction.  I  admit  the  miracle, 
but  I  plead  the  fact.    It  is  no  more  remark- 


AND  MONOGRAPHS 


44 


and  there- 
fore cannot 
itand  alone 


ESTHETIC     BASIS 


able  than  the  extreme  intensification  of 
emotion  attendant  upon  the  fusion  of 
language  with  the  recurrent  beat  of  met- 
rical rhythm  on  wliich  poetry  draws  so 
lavishly. 

The  forms  of  art,  considered  in  and  for 
themselves,  are  nearly  always  trivial  and 
irrelevant.  The  esthetician,  knowing  this, 
never  judges  them  thus  for  what  they  are, 
but  for  what  they  can  do.  Surety  we  might 
hold  that  the  jingling  of  words  of  similar 
ending  and  the  constant  ordering  of  words 
into  alternatingly  accented  and  unaccented 
syllables  is  a  puerile  pastime  for  a  grown 
man;  but  if  w^e  proceed  to  rule  them  out  of 
poetry  on  that  ground,  we  shall  soon  find 
out  where  we  stand — or  some  of  the  modem 
formless  poets  will  soon  instruct  us. 

There  is  another  formal  function  which 
line  may  perform — that  of  suggesting  mo- 
tion. The  eye  has  a  tendency  to  follow 
lines  and  to  travel  with  greater  or  less  ease 
according  to  the  kind  of  line.  It  would  be 
childish  to  claim  that  any  very  extensive 
spiritual  experience  is  derived  from  thus 
travelling  around  on  the  lines  of  a  picture. 


B  R  Y  N     M  A  W  R    NOTES 


OF     GREEK    ART 


If  we  concentrate  on  the  purely  formal  cle- 
ment, the  result  is  extremely  trivial.  But 
if  all  these  effects  of  acceleration  and  re- 
tardation, continuity  and  disconnection, 
intricate  volution  and  open  sweeping  prog- 
ress be  encountered  and  scarce-consciously 
performed  during  our  contemplation  of  the 
objects  presented  by  the  picture,  the  triv- 
iality vanishes.  The  things  in  the  picture 
take  to  themselves  the  emotional  qualities 
which  are  latent  in  the  pure  forms.  Swift- 
ness to  otir  eye  in  travelling  over  lines  is 
indeed  great  swiftness  when  those  lines, 
measurable  in  inches,  appear  to  us  as  wide 
uplands  stretching  to  remote  hills.  And 
when  difficult  progress  over  broken  hnes. 
around  uncomfortable  angles,  and  through 
perplexing  interlacings,  is  performed  along 
what  we  accept  for  beams  and  joists  and 
stays  of  a  vast  dungeon-room,  our  whole 
being  seems  confined  and  shut  in,  because 
we  have  transferred  our  ocular  perplexity 
and  fatigue  to  our  imagined  corporeal  exist- 
ence amid  the  presented  scene. ^ 

But  (it  will  be  said)  if  each  of  the  lines 
which  depict  a  given  object  has  its  par- 


45 


but  must 
be  fused 
with  some 
representa- 
tional 
illusion 


A  N  D     M  O  N  (3  G  R  A  P  H  S 


46 

ESTHETIC    BASIS 

ticular  formal  value,  the  resulting  emotion 
depends  on  the  particular  shape  of  the  ob- 
ject and  not  on  the  artist.     That  is  true,  to 
a  certain  extent.     It  is  difficult  to  alter  the 
emotional  valne  of  the  lines  of  a  very  stout 
woman  or  an  Ionic  capital.     But  the  ob- 
jection will  quickly  be  seen  to  be  super- 
ficial.    There  are  numberless  angles  from 
which  an  object  can  be  drawn,  and  hence 
numberless  modifications  of  the  necessfiry 
lines;  interior  lines  can  be  modified  almost 
at  pleasure;   the  relations  of  the  object  to 
the  lines  and  surfaces  of  the  rest  of  the 
pictm-e  are  at  the  artist's  discretion;   and, 
finally,  the  object  can  be  "misdrawn"  so 
as  to  give  it  lines  which  would  not  actually 
occxH-  in  the  photographically  correct  de- 
lineation.    To  what  extent  is  this  artistic 
''misdrawing  "  allowable?    That  is  scarcely 
the  esthetician's  affair;   \mt  I  am  inclined 
to  think  that  the  only  limit  which  can  be 
demanded  is  the  limit  beyond  which  the 
spectator    ceases   to   recognise   what   the 
represented  object  is  intended  to  be.     But 
artistic  taste  will  nearly  always  assign  a 

1 

B  R  Y  N     M  A  W  R     NOTES 

OF     GREEK    ART 


limit  much  closer  to  the  photographically 
correct. 

Extreme  painters — the  Outragists,  if  I 
may  so  dub  them — often  depart  very 
widely  from  Nature.  I  must  confess  that 
to  me  distortions  and  malformations  of 
decent  human  anatomy  invariably  intro- 
duce a  strong  element  of  displeasure  and  a 
revulsion  away  from  all  sympathetic  con- 
templation, so  that  my  final  emotion  is 
strongly  modified  by  these  unfavorable  ele- 
ments. Now  it  is  a  matter  of  experience 
that  wherever  dislike  and  repulsion  are 
markedly  present  as  components,  the  re- 
sultant esthetic  emotion  is  not  likely  to  be 
of  much  value.  (There  must  be  a  fascina- 
tion in  ugliness  before  it  can  successfully 
heighten  our  artistic  emotion.)  Our  friends 
the  Outragists  would  have  us  concentrate 
purely  on  formal  considerations  and  forget 
the  unpleasant  modifications  insofar  as 
they  touch  the  real  world.  We  are  not  to 
think  how  we  should  scream  if  we  en- 
countered in  the  open  a  woman  with  cubical 
hips  and  a  mouth  curling  \'aguely  beneath 
one  ear.      ''Forget   all   such   reflections," 


47 


Must  the 
pure  forms 
and  the 
representa- 
tions be 
completely 
fused? 


AND     M ONOGRAPHS 


48 


Disadvan- 
tages of  in- 
complete 
fusion 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


they  might  bid  us;  "this  is  not  Nature,  but 
Art.  These  Unes  and  surfaces  are  ex- 
pressive, significant.  They  introduce  the 
potency  of  abstract  values  conceived  by 
the  artist  and  undiscoverable  by  the  an- 
atomist or  the  photographer.  Something 
new  has  been  created,  a  new  and  more 
primal  emotion.  To  that  lay  yourself 
open." 

A  new  emotion,  truly;  but  of  what  sort? 
Into  the  fusion  of  pure  form  with  repre- 
sented object  there  enters  a  host  of  com- 
ponent elements.  The  represented  object 
which  here  goes  into  the  crucible  is  not 
just  woman  in  general,  but  this  particular 
woman  with  the  bodily  characteristics  wdth 
which  she  is  depicted,  and  along  with  these 
go  all  our  associations,  our  attractions  and 
repulsions,  our  memories  and  imaginations 
that  are  awakened  by  the  sight  of  this 
woman  as  she  is  presented  to  our  sight. 
There  is  no  way  of  keeping  these  out  of  the 
crucible;  for  art  is  not  an  intellectual  or 
geometric  abstraction  from  ordinary  ex- 
perience, but  a  transformation  of  our  own 
sensuous  world  with  all  its  inimitably  com- 


BRYN     MAWR     NOTES 


OF     GREEK    ART 


plex  ramifications  of  feelings,  pleasures,  de- 
sires, fears,  superstitions,  instincts,  mem- 
ories, associations.  All  these  go  into  the 
crucible.  And  if  the  brew  be  full  of  im- 
pleasant  and  distasteful  humours,  so  that 
the  final  draught  is  bitter  and  puckers  the 
lips,  it  is  idle  for  the  artist  to  bid  us  con- 
centrate our  palate  on  some  one  fla\-our 
and  ignore  all  the  rest. 

As  long  as  the  resulting  emotion  depends 
on  a  fusion  of  form  and  matter  (and  it  is 
our  contention  that  this  is  the  case)  we 
must  be  prepared  to  recognise  that  the 
*'new  emotion"  is  an  emotion  about  an  old 
world  with  which  we  are  irrevocably  allied 
for  our  delights  and  our  dislikes;  and  as 
long  as  we  suggest  that  world  by  repre- 
senting its  objects,  we  must  be  prepared 
for  all  the  worldly  suggestions  that  such 
representation  entails.  We  can  "mis- 
draw"  as  much  as  we  like — only,  we  must 
be  prepared  to  accept  the  consequences. 

If  we  make  this  reply  to  the  initiate  mod- 
ernist, he  will  tell  us  that  we  ignore  the 
special  intention  by  being  insensitive  to 
the  formal  values.     If  we  ask  him  then, 


AND     AI  O  N  O  G  R  A  P  H  vS 


50 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


"Suppose  that,  in  order  to  introduce  cer- 
tain formal  values,  the  object  came  to  be 
represented  like  (forgive  the  levity)  an 
elephantiac  scrub-woman  recovering  from 
a  railway  accident,  do  you  hold  that  these 
formal  values  are  arising  around  Woman- 
As-Such  or  around  that  particular  dis- 
tressing specimen  of  her  sex?"  From  this 
point  the  discussion  should  become  more 
entertaining.  For  our  contention  must  be 
that  either  the  fact  that  a  woman  is  repre- 
sented is  irrelevant  (in  which  case,  why  a 
woman  at  all?  why  not  pure  pattern?)  or 
else  this  particular  woman,  just  as  she 
appears  in  all  her  discouraging  deformity, 
is  an  integral  part  of  the  emotion.  For 
that  a  painter  can  introduce  ''woman 
in  general"  into  his  painting  and  draw  her 
or  misdraw  her  as  he  likes  without  affecting 
her  "womanliness"  or  our  conception 
thereof,  I  entirely  refuse  to  allow.  The 
extremist  idea  seems  to  be  that  so  long  as 
we  recognise  what  the  object  is  intended 
for — a  house,  a  tree,  a  human  being — the 
formal  values  will  fuse  with  our  general 
concept  of  house,  tree,  and  human  being,  as 


BRYN     MAWR     NOTES 


OF    GREEK    ART 


though  the  whole  process  went  on  in  a 
region  of  abstract  thought  instead  of  amid 
our  immediate  vision  of  particular  objects 
every  detail  of  which  was  effective. 


Pure  fonn  to  the  detriinent  of  repre- 
sentational fidelity,  or  representational 
fidelity  to  the  detriment  of  pure  form — 
both  are  esthetically  mistaken;  for  both 
tend  to  suppress  an  essential  factor  of  the 
artistic  appeal. 


51 


AND     U O  N  O  G  R  A  P  H  S 


52 

ESTHETIC     BASIS 

A  new  step 
in  the  argu- 
ment. 

Spatial  pre- 
sentation a 
convenient 
index  or 
criterion  of 
pure  forms. 
One- 

We  ha\e  insisted  tliat  there  must  be  a 
sufficient  measure   of  representational  il- 
lusion;   but  it  is  also  equally  clear  that 
thorough-going  representational  accuracy, 
because  it  tends  to  eliminate  the  artistic 
form,    cannot    be    a   criterion   of    artistic 
achievement.        In    representational     art 
actual    sensuous    deception   is   rarely    in- 
tended.    By  imitation,  the  appearances  of 
the  real  world  are  shown  in  artistic  form; 
but   it   is   not   art's   desire   to  have  that 
imitative   presentation   actually  mistaken 
for  objective  reality.     Of  this  we  can  read- 
ily convince  ourselves  by  examining  the 
various    devices    of    spatial    presentation 
which  the  arts  employ.      Often  we  shall 
find  that  the  presentation  is  one-dimen- 
sional in  its  emphasis  (insofar  as  there  is 
an  insistence  on  the  linear  aspect,  with  a 
consequent  suppression  of  the  more  solid 
and  extensive  spatial  qualities).      Of  this 
class  are  many  of  the  Greek  vase-designs, 
especially    during    the    Early    Red-Figiu-e 
period;  and  one  essential  element  of  Greek 

r 

BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 

OF     GREEK    ART 


low-relief  is  this  insistence  upon  linear 
presentation.  In  other  artistic  products 
the  presentation  is  two-dimensional  in  its 
emphasis  (in  that  there  is  an  insistence 
upon  the  surfaces  which  the  objects  of 
esthetic  contemplation  occupy  in  the  field 
of  vision,  with  a  consequent  diminution  of 
the  illusion  of  solid  spatial  existence).  Of 
this  class  are  certain  vase-designs,  much 
relief-carving,  and  (presumably)  most  of 
the  earlier  wall-paintings.  Here  too  we 
shall  have  to  classify  the  essential  element 
in  the  esthetic  appeal  of  Greek  architec- 
ture. Finally,  there  is  three-dimensional 
presentation,  the  cardinal  problem  of 
sculpture-in-the-round  and  one  of  the 
great  preoccupations  of  architecture 
(though  not  in  classical  Greece)  and  of 
painting  (in  certain  very  developed  periods 
of  its  career).  Since  successful  three- 
dimensional  presentation  occasions  a  very 
vivid  impression  of  completely  objective 
existence  in  space,  and  since  three-dimen- 
sional presentation  alone  can  achieve  this, 
it  is  only  in  the  arts  which  aim  at  such 
presentation  that  imitative  illusion   ever 


53 


and  three- 
dimensional 
emphasis 


AND     M  ONOGRAPHS 


54 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


There  are 
other  pure 
forms  and 
other 

methods  of 
analysis; 
but  we  will 
continue 
our  argu- 
ment 


threatens  to  be  complete  and  to  become 
delusion.  Against  such  a  fatality  sculpture 
usually  guards  itself  by  an  insistence  on  its 
material  medium  and  the  constant  dis- 
crepancy between  what  actually  is  and 
what  by  imitation  appears  to  be.  Painting 
averts  a  similar  mischance  by  creating  its 
own  luminous  environment  in  which  its 
imitations  are  kept  within  a  spatial  con- 
struction of  its  own,  which  will  not  fuse 
and  therefore  cannot  be  confused  with  the 
objective  space  in  which  the  beholder 
stands.  Architecture,  content  to  imitate 
conventional  objects  of  its  own  choosing, 
has  no  need  to  seek  to  avoid  the  appear- 
ance of  solid  reality  for  its  creations,  but 
on  the  contrary  strives  to  present  them  in 
their  spatial  actuality  with  all  vividness 
and  a  heightening  insistence,  achieving  for 
itself  almost  the  distinction  of  a  fourth  and 
unique  genus  of  spatial  presentation,  the 
presentation  of  solids  enclosing  space. 

It  is  to  these  devices  of  spatial  presenta- 
tion to  which  particularly  this  study  will 
turn,  rather  than  to  the  more  familiar  and 
well-understood    formal    devices    such    as 


BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 


OF     GREEK    ART 


composition,  balance,  **mass,"  "tonality," 
rhythm,  and  the  other  commonplaces  of 
ordinary  artistic  appreciation. 


*     *     * 


AND  MONOGRAPHS 


56 


Greek  art 
uses  one- 
dimensional 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


In  early  fifth  century  Greek  vase-designs 
the  representational  subject-matter  is  pre- 
sented seemingly  without  desire  to  impart 
an  illusion  of  spatial  depth  or  solid  exist- 
ence in  space.  The  draughtsmen  of  the 
early  red-figure  period  turn  their  attention 
to  the  discovery  of  linear  equivalents  for 
the  objects  which  they  purpose  to  draw. 
The  gods  and  heroes,  athletes  and  revellers, 
whom  they  present  to  our  sight,  exist 
mainly  by  virtue  of  the  encompassing  lines 
which  mark  them  off  from  their  back- 
ground. Internal  Hnes  are  used  for  de- 
tails of  muscular  grooving  and  drapery 
folds;  but  these  lines  are  not  used  to 
create  plastic  illusion,  they  do  not  model 
or  occasion  any  apparent  spatial  pro- 
trusion or  recession,  toward  or  away  from 
the  eye.  The  world  of  real  objects  is  re- 
duced to  terms  of  linear  appearances,  and 
other  spatial  qualities  have  evaporated  or 
disappeared.  With  their  disappearance  a 
subtle  and  barely  describable  change  at- 
taches to  our  impressions  of  the  world  in 


BRYN     MAWR     NOTES 


OF     GREEK    ART 

57 

which  these  figures  move — the  world  of 
these  legendary  people  and  athletes  and 
revellers  to  whom  we  somehow  allow  exist- 
ence as  though  they  were  real  and  alive, 
and  yet  whom  we  never  mistake  for  flesh 
and  blood.     In  our  impressions  of  them  we 
scarcely  admit  that  they  have  the  weight 
which  belongs  to  solid  material  objects,  nor 
that  they  must  exert  effort  in  order  to 
move  themselves.     We  ascribe  to  them  a 
life  of  extraordinarily  heightened  anima- 
tion and  know  somehow  that  the  impulse 
of  movement  rules  and  runs  through  them, 
holding  ankle  and  knee  and  hip  and  shoul- 
der   and    arm    together    in    one    control. 
These  are  perhaps  but  vague  and  partial 
descriptions  of  what  we  feel;   yet  they  will 
serve  to  suggest  that  the  presentation  of  a 
human  body  wholly  through  linear  equiv- 
alents— what  I  should  like  to  call  a  presen- 
tation   with    one-dimensional    emphasis — 
carries  with  it  a  power  of  peculiar  sugges- 
tion and  that  this  power  is  one  of  the  spe- 
cific esthetic  resources  of  any   art  which 
chooses  to  employ  such  means  of  presenta- 
tion. 

AND     MONOGRAPHS 

1 

58 


ESTHETIC     BASIS 


As  long  as  we  are  foolish  enough  to  be- 
lieve that  realistic  illusion  is  the  end  and 
aim  of  art,  we  shall  be  wholly  unable  to  do 
justice  to  the  intentions  of  such  an  art's 
more  purely  linear  methods.  But  if  we  are 
prepared  to  see  in  esthetic  phenomena  a 
fusion  of  objective  representation  with 
artistic  forms  capable  of  transmuting  (even 
to  the  point  almost  of  destroying)  the 
sense  of  objective  reality  in  the  interest  of 
artistic  emotion,  we  shall  have  little  dif- 
ficulty in  understanding  the  devices  of 
Greek  vase-design. 

For  example,  we  shall  readily  appre- 
ciate that  it  was  not  so  much  because  the 
pigment  dried  rapidly  (as  is  frequently 
asserted)  that  the  ancient  vase-drawings 
show  outlines  which  must  have  been  drawn 
quickly,  continuously,  and  without  hesi- 
tation, but,  rather,  because  the  whole  ob^ 
jective  existence  of  the  portrayed  figure  and 
all  those  impressions  of  which  we  have  just 
spoken  depended  on  these  lines.  An  in- 
terrupted contour,  an  incoherency  of  linear 
connection,  would  lessen  the  power  of  these 
impressions  and  work  against  the  very  pur 


BRYN     MAWR     NOTES 


OF     GREEK    ART 

59 

poses  for  which  Hnear  presentations  were 
employed.     The  eye  must  be  made  to  fol- 
low the  run  of  contours  and  inner  lines,  so 
that  the  mind  may  never  rest  in  the  illu- 
sion that  the  pictured  figiu-es  actually  fill 
and  occupy  the  space  in  which  they  are 
shown.      And  further,   all  suggestions  of 
motion  and  those  impressions  consequent 
on  the  travel  of  the  eye  along  lines,  depend 
for  their  vividness  on  the  clarity  and  insis- 
tence with  which  the  linear  exceeds  any 
other  spatial  emphasis. 

On  the  white-ground  Attic  lekythi  later 
in  the  fifth  century,  although  the  nicthod  of 
presentation  is  still  very  linear,  there  is  in- 
troduced the  practice  of  making  solid  areas 
of  color  and  of  using  these  to  build  up  area- 
relations  in  the  field  of  the  design.    There  is 
still  no  illusion  of  spatial  depth;    but  the 
objective  world  is  now  no  longer  conjured 
up  solely  through  linear  equivalents.    The 
eye,  instead  of  moving  continually  under  the 
incitement  and  to  the  lead   of  lines,  now 
rests  on  the  full  areas  of  color.     In  fact,  the 
pictured    objects    of   this    world    are  pre- 
sented largely  in  two-dimensional  guise  and 

two- 
dimensioiia! 

AND     MONOGRAPHS 

I 

60 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


with  two-dimensional  emphasis:  they  exist 
surely  as  surfaces,  though  still  very  pre- 
cariously and  uncertainly  as  solids  in  space. 

Two-dimensional  presentation  very  gen- 
erally avails  itself  of  the  device  called  pat- 
tern. This  device  is  so  familiar  that  it 
scarcely  needs  elucidation.  The  textile 
arts,  the  arts  of  decorative  metal-work,  in 
fact  all  arts  whose  representations  are  con- 
ventional and  ornamental  rather  than 
flirectly  illusionary,  count  much  on  pat- 
tern. Even  relief-sculpture  and  painting 
admit  it  as  one  of  tlieir  major  pure  forms. 

Now,  what  pattern  is  and  why  it  appeals 
to  us,  I  hope  that  I  shall  not  be  called  upon 
t  o  discover.  For  one  thing,  it  depends  upon 
symmetry  of  parts,  a  correspondence  of 
right  with  left  or  upper  with  lower.  A 
kaleidoscope  cannot  fail  to  produce  pat- 
terns; for  however  orderless  and  crazily 
the  central  coloured  sherds  lie,  the  mirrors 
will  so  echo  these  elements  by  reflection  and 
inversion  that  order  and  balance  will  be 
i.uult  up  on  disorder  and  there  will  be  pat 
tern.  And  in  apprehending  pattern  there 
is  both  the  simple  joy  of  recognition  (when 


BRYN     MAWR     NOTES 


OF     GREEK    ART 


we  detect  repetitions  and  inversions  of  tlK- 
same  theme)  and  the  intellectual  joy  of 
discovering  spatial  relationships  and  the 
generative  principles  of  construction.  But 
there  must  be  some  deeper  appeal  than  this . 
for  the  sense  for  pattern  seems  to  be  more 
primitive  and  to  lie  deeper  than  such 
sophistications  and  the  joy  in  it  seems  to  be 
strangely  clean  and  satisfying.  Intellec- 
tually we  may  feel  contemptuous  of  the 
triviality  and  practical  irrelevance  of  its 
behaviour.  Yet  something  in  the  contempla 
tion  of  pattern  goes  as  deep  as  our  instinct 
against  bodily  deformity  and  approval  of 
fully  and  evenly  developed  things,  whether 
they  be  flowers  or  children  or  our  lovers' 
bodies,  (is  it  then  to  be  wondered  at  if  pat  - 
tern  is  insistently  present  among  the  artis 
tic  forms  of  a  people  so  addicted  to  athletic 
training  and  the  sight  of  the  nude  as  were 
the  Greeks?) 

Whatever  this  sense  of  pleasure  and  ajj 
proval  may  be  in  itself,  it  is  carried  over  tu 
the  represented  objects  of  art  when  these 
objects   are  visually  grasped  as  inherent 
components  of  a  patterned  design.     Fur- 


A  N  D     MONOGRAPHS 


62 


EvSTHETIC     BASIS 


thermore  pattern  unifies  the  objects  to 
which  it  is  appHed  and  gives  a  consequent 
sense  of  internal  cohesion,  so  that  scattered 
elements  of  a  landscape  or  discrete  human 
beings  of  a  sculptural  group  may  impart, 
merel}^  because  of  the  pattern  in  which  they 
are  put,  a  sense  of  relevancy  and  fitness  to 
appear  together.  We  are  aware  of  a  unity 
wliich  we  may  take  for  the  all-penetrating 
unity  of  Nature  or  the  unifying  force  of  an 
artist's  creative  idea,  though  it  arise  merely 
from  the  unity  of  the  unmeaning  pattern 
in  which  the  trees  and  fields  and  hilltops 
of  a  painting  are  shown. 

What  art  may  do  with  a  pure  form,  with 
pattern  void  of  representation,  may  be  well 
studied  in  Mohammedan  art.  The  religious 
ban  on  imitating  and  reproducing  the 
appearances  of  living  things  turned  the 
craftsmen  of  Islam  toward  a  half-mystical, 
highly  geometric,  and  thoroughly  interest- 
ing pursuit  of  the  decorative  possibilities 
of  i^attern.  Rugs  and  carpets,  wliose  orna- 
mentation is  an  Oriental  tradition  (our 
western  methods  of  presentation  went  into 
the   picture-world   of   tapestries)    show   a 


B  R  Y  N     M A  W  R     NOTES 


OF     GREEK     ART 


similarly  highly  developed  art  based  on  the 
pure  form,  pattern.  Birds  and  trees  and 
flowers  enter  in,  but  scarcely  for  their  own 
sake.  They  are  usually  patternised  in 
appearance,  with  no  pictorial  space-rela- 
tionship to  one  another  or  other  setting 
than  their  appropriate  position  within  the 
pattern.  Form  has  the  upper  hand,  repre- 
sentation is  incidental.  Such  work,  what- 
ever other  artistic  value  it  may  have,  seems 
to  miss  the  spiritual  opportunities  of  more 
representational  design,  because  it  does 
nothing  with  every-day  human  experience. 
It  can  appeal  to  certain  deep-seated  likes 
and  pleasures  and  instincts;  but  it  does 
nothing  with  them,  it  does  not  humanise 
them,  it  does  not  bring  them  to  bear  upon 
that  world  of  sensuous  life  in  which  our 
spiritual  experience  is  rooted. 

It  would  be  possible  to  classify  the  Greek 
use  of  artistic  pattern  under  the  captions 
Decorative,  Unifying,  and  vSuggestive.  Dec- 
orative patterns  would  be  those  in  which 
the  pattern  contributes  merely  tlie  pleasures 
attendant  upon  its  orderliness  and  loveli- 
ness of  arrangement.     Unifying  patterns 


AND    MONOGRAPHS 


64 


E  vS  T  H  E  T  I  C     BASIS 


would  be  those  in  which  the  synthesising 
pOAver  of  the  pattern  is  transferred  and 
apphed  to  the  represented  objects.  Sug- 
gestive patterns  would  be  those  in  which  the 
geometric  constmction  of  the  pattern 
conveys  some  suggestion  of  equilibrium, 
conflicting  forces,  or  other  mechanical 
effect.  This  last  use  is  most  common  dur- 
ing the  latter  half  of  the  fifth  century  and 
is  conspicuous  in  the  metope  compositions 
of  the  great  Doric  temples  of  that  period. 
The  Lapith-and-Centaur  metopes  of  the 
Parthenon  arc  generally  composed  about  a 
central  polygon  of  uniformly  coloured 
background;  the  enclosing  sides  of  these 
polygons  are  the  bodies  of  the  two  contest- 
ants; a  A^ery  brief  analysis  shows  that  pat- 
tern is  here  functioning  in  all  three  of  the 
aspects  just  mentioned,  and  that  truth  to 
Nature,  spatial,  and  all  other  illusions  are 
rigorously  subordinated  and  distorted  in  the 
interest  of  these  three  aspects  of  pattern. 
In  conseciuence  these  metopes  have  been 
generally  criticised  adversely.  I  know  of 
no  critic  or  WTiter  who  has  appreciated 
them  for  what  they  really  are  and  for  what 


B  R  Y  N     M A  W  R     NOTES 


OF     GREEK     ART 


they  manifestly  ir)'  to  be — two-figure 
compositions  presenting  intense  physical 
strain  of  bodily  contest  wholly  through  the 
artistic  forms  of  line,  surface,  and  pattern. 
They  were  to  be  seen  at  a  considerable  dis- 
tance and  at  a  height  of  at  least  forty- 
five  feet  above  the  ground — in  a  position, 
consequent^,  where  simplifications  of  line 
and  pattern  would  be  effective  and  minor 
fidelities  to  representational  truth  would 
be  inconsequent. 

Familiar  as  pattern  is,  artists  and  esthe- 
ticians  seem  seldom  a^^'are  that  it  is  wholly 
a  two-dimensional  form  and  that  therefore 
its  occurrence  in  three-dimensional  presen- 
tation is  a  matter  of  \'ery  unusual  interest 
and  importance.  In  a  painted  scene  there 
is  intentionally  the  illusion  of  depth:  we 
construct  a  space  in  which  the  objects 
occupy  positions  at  various  imagined  dis- 
tances from  the  eye.  Insofar  as  we  accept 
this  space  as  actual,  no  pattern  is  possible; 
we  only  apprehend  the  pattern  Iw  reducing 
all  the  objects  to  that  which  they  really  are 
— fiat  surfaces  of  colour  lying  in  a  single 
plane.    One  peculiar  effect  of  pattern  in 


AND     M  O  N  O  ( T  R  A  P  U S 


66 


ESTHETIC    BASIvS 


such  a  painted  scene,  therefore,  is  the  de- 
mand which  it  makes  on  us  to  apply  a  two- 
dimensional  arrangement  of  coloured  areas 
to  a  three-dimensional  spatial  construction 
and  (impossible  as  it  may  sound)  recognise 
that  this  space  without  depth  and  the 
space  with  depth  are  somehow  fused,  some- 
how one  and  the  same.  It  should  follow 
that,  the  more  insistence  there  is  on  pat- 
tern, the  less  actuality  we  ascribe  to  our 
construction  of  a  three-dimensional  space 
in  which  the  objects  stand;  and  this  might 
be  carried  to  such  a  degree  that  we  should 
be  so  dominated  by  the  sense  of  pattern  as 
to  be  wholly  unable  to  make  a  three-dimen- 
sional construction  at  all. 

I  hazard  the  conjecture  that  this  was 
actually  the  case  with  Greek  wall-painting 
during  the  fifth  century  because  the  empha- 
sis was  almost  entirely  on  the  two  dimen- 
sional devices  of  areal  composition  (pat- 
tern, balance,  repetition  of  similar  shapes) 
and  on  the  one -dimensional  devices  of 
Hnear  presentation.-  But  of  the  actual 
effect  of  Greek  wall-paintings  we  know  so 
little  that  it  will  be  wiser  to  confine  the  dis- 


B  R  Y  N     M  A  W  R    NOTES 


OF     GREEK    ART 


cussion  to  a  kindred  art  whose  products 
are  abundantly  preserved  to  us. 

Carved  relief  in  Greece,  notoriously,  is 
subject  to  a  seemingly  arbitrary  convention 
of  execution  in  planes.  Instead  of  a  uni- 
form abbreviation  of  depth  (according  to 
which,  although  two  or  three  inches  of  pro- 
jection may  have  to  do  duty  for  the  entire 
depth  of  a  represented  scene,  this  projec- 
tion will  be  correctly  distributed  pro  rata, 
and  every  element  will  get  its  proper  share) 
in  the  Greek  convention  of  planes  there  is  a 
very  uneven  distribution  of  depth.  A 
human  torso  will  be  carved  as  an  almost  flat 
surface  with  undercut  outline;  and  in 
general  all  the  depth  will  be  concentrated 
at  the  contours,  within  whose  boundary  all 
will  be  treated  practically  as  a  continuous 
plane-surface.  A  succession  of  planes,  each 
stepped  back  at  its  edges  to  the  next  plane, 
will  make  up  the  entire  relief.  Of  this  series 
of  planes,  two  will  be  much  more  prominent 
than  the  rest:  the  front  plane,  which  agrees 
with  the  original  smoothed  surface  of  the 
marble  slab,  and  the  rear  plane,  which  is 


.\  X  D     M  ONOGRAPHS 


68 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


the  (uniformly  coloured)  background  against 
which  the  figures  appear. 

The  origin  of  this  convention  is  well 
known.  Relief  originated  in  Greece  in  the 
practice  of  cutting  away  the  background 
from  a  drawn  or  painted  figure,  leaving  a 
flat  drawing  raised  above  a  flat  background. 
Where  elements  in  the  drawing  overlapped 
or  were  intended  to  be  at  different  distances 
from  the  eye,  the  farther  element  w^as  set 
back  from  the  hither  one  by  the  same  device 
of  cutting  it  back  a  stage.  Out  of  this  prac- 
tice there  arose  quite  natm^ally  the  conven- 
tion of  composition  in  successive  planes. 

To  have  understood  the  origin  of  this 
convention  is  a  very  different  thing  from 
comprehending  its  artistic  validity  once  it 
was  established.  If  the  Greek  sculptors 
adhered  to  this  convention  throughout  the 
fifth  century,  it  is  only  fair  to  assume  that 
they  did  so  because  they  found  it  artisti- 
cally useful  and  not  because  they  were 
unable  to  hit  upon  any  different  method. 

The  frieze  of  the  Parthenon  presents  the 
Pan-athenaic  procession  so  divested  of  all 
scenic  setting  and  of  all  recognisable  spatial 


B  R  Y  N     M  A  W  R    NOTE  S 


OF     GREEK    ART 


surroundings  that  archaeologists  have  ser- 
iously asked  the  question  whether  it  is  the 
real  procession  or  some  sort  of  a  rehearsal 
which  is  shown.  Riders  and  chariots, 
elders  and  musicians  afoot,  youths  with 
animals,  maidens  with  sacrificial  vessels, 
all  move  as  though  on  a  narrow  shelf,  Seen 
sharp  against  the  sky.  The  horsemen  are 
often  three  figm-es  deep,  their  arrangement 
even  demands  that  they  should  be  inter- 
preted as  riding  six  and  seven  abreast;  yet 
space  has  somehow  lost  its  density,  and  we 
fail  to  see  them  in  the  space  which  we  know 
tliey  must  occupy.  There  is  an  abstraction 
of  all  else,  and  an  insistence  on  our  sense 
for  harmonious  and  effortless  motion, 
which  gives  to  the  contemplation  of  the 
Pan-athenaic  frieze  a  quality  of  delight  such 
as  no  actual  procession  may  give.  The  es- 
thetic explanation  is  apparent.  Thanks  to 
the  convention  of  planes,  the  presentation 
is  largely  two-dimensional.  Depth  is  a 
half-unreal  assumption,  and  of  it  we  have 
only  as  much  as  will  satisfy  the  require- 
ment of  making  motion  in  space  a  possible 
inference.     Thanks  to  the  convention  of 


A  N  D     M  ONOGRAPHS 


70 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


planes,  we  are  forced  to  rely  upon  the  con- 
tours to  give  these  figures  spatial  existence; 
and  so  we  are  enthralled  in  the  illusions  of 
linear  presentation.  But  also  because  of 
the  convention  of  planes,  the  pure  forms  of 
two-dimensional  presentation  are  given 
freer  rein.  In  the  cavalcade  the  set  recur- 
rence of  horses'  heads  and  riders'  heads  at 
the  top  of  the  frieze,  the  smooth  areas  of 
the  horses'  bodies  at  mid-height  of  the  frieze, 
the  rapid  beat  of  recurrent  horses'  legs  at 
the  bottom  of  the  frieze,  can  affect  us  with 
their  spaced  rhythms  to  an  extent  whicli 
would  be  impossible  with  a  stricter  illu- 
sion of  deptli.  For,  as  we  have  seen,  all 
these  devices  of  pattern  exist  only  insofar 
as  we  are  able  to  reduce  the  presented 
objects  to  areas  on  a  single  surface. 

'Until  the  last  quarter  of  the  lifth  cen- 
tury (the  frieze  from  Bassae  is  one  of  tl.c 
earliest  instances  to  the  contrary)  tlic  men 
and  animals  on  a  Greek  relief,  if  they  seem 
to  move,  always  suggest  motion  in  tl;c  plane 
of  the  background  and  not  toward  or  away 
from  the  eye.  This  was  largely  a  result  of 
the  frontal  presentation  which  early  draw- 


BRYX     MAWR     XOTES 


OF     GREEK    ART 

71 

ing  naturally  employs;  but  it  had  its  artis- 
tic justification  because  the  plane  of  the 
background  is  the  only  direction  which  does 
not  demand  tlie  construction  of  additional 
spatial  depth  (since  if  there  is  to  be  motion 
we  must  necessarily  imagine  a  space  in 
which  it  can  take  place).    But  additional 
spatial  depth  w411  further  the  three-dimen- 
sional   illusion   and   thereby   obscure   the 
effects  incident  to  surface  and  line. 

The  convention  of  planes  and  the  con- 
vention of  motion  in  the  plane  of  the  back- 
ground are  therefore  artistic  devices  which 
are  involved  in  the  problem  of  two-dimen- 
sional  presentation;    their   presence   and 
meaning  in  the  developed  art  of  the  fifth 
century  cannot  be  adequately  explained  in 
any  other  way. 

With  sculpture  in  the  round  we  at  last 
reach  the  problem  of  three-dimensional 
presentation,  with  all  its  attendant  intri- 
cacies and  difficulties. 

Not  only  is  the  question  of  three-dimen- 
sional presentation  itself  a  difficult  one ;  but 
the  sculptural  appeal  is  rendered  extremely 

and  three- 
dimensional 
presenta- 
tions 

AND     AI  0  N  0  G  R  A  P  H  vS 

I 

72 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


complex  and  confusing  for  the  esthetician 
because,  just  as  the  arts  which  emphasize 
two-dimensional  presentation  generally  in- 
clude also  the  devices  of  one-dimensional 
emphasis  (as  when  carved  relief  employs 
linear  effects)  so  an  art  w^iose  characteris- 
tic method  of  presentation  is  three-dimen- 
sional will  impress  both  one-  and  two- 
dimensional  presentations  into  its  service. 
Since  sculpture  uses  both  the  pattern  de- 
signs of  areas  and  the  linear  suggestions  of 
contours  and  interior  lines,  there  results 
for  the  sculptural  appeal  a  fusion  of  many 
diverse  factors  and  a  consequent  complex 
ity  such  as  does  not  characterise  the  arts 
which  we  have  thus  far  considered. 

As  an  instance  of  this  synthesis  of  many 
factors,  the  relief  of  Aphrodite  rising  from 
the  sea  (if  such  be  the  correct  description 
of  the  scene  on  the  so-called  Ludovisi 
Throne)  shows  a  masterly  combination  of 
the  suggestive  emotional  powers  of  all 
three  forms  of  spatial  presentation.  By 
pattern  the  attention  is  centered  on  Aphro- 
dite; by  linear  suggestion  of  parallel  cate- 
nary curves,  on  which  as  it  were  the  figures 


B  R  Y  N     M  A  W  R     NOTES 


OF     GREEK    ART 

73 

are  hung,  a  sense  of  weight  in  effortless 
equiHbrium  is  conveyed;   by  a  heightening 
of  the  projection  of  the  reUef  from  its  back- 
ground toward  the  centre  and  a  grackial 
lessening  of  it  toward  the  right  and  left 
and  bottom  (where  there  is  practically  no 
spatial  construction,  but  only  linear  pre- 
sentation) Aphrodite  herself  is  presented 
with  an  illusion  of  spatial  actuality  which 
does  not  obtain  for  her  two  attendants,  so 
that  she,  herself  bodily  real  is  surrounded 
by  a  sort  of  penumbra  of  unsubstantiality. 
And  this  works  magically  upon  our  emo- 
tional comprehension. 

In  this  extraordinary  effect  of  a  fusion  of 
corporeal   solidity   with  utter   unsubstan- 
tiality sculpture  has  a  unique  opportunity. 
Most  easily  accentuated  in  relief -work,  it 
yet  may  exert  a  strong  influence  in  sculp- 
ture in  the  round,  so  that  coincident  with 
a    three-dimensional     presentation    there 
may  be  the  eerie  negation  of  all  the  solidity 
with  which  the  eye  is  so  directly  and  so 
insistently  affected.     From  linear  presen- 
tation almost  all  the  sense  of  motion  in  a 
statue  is  derived  (though  in  a  more  Cyclo- 

AND     MONOGRAPHS 

I 

74 


ESTHETIC     BASIS 


which  le 
us  to  a 
complex 
and  sul)t 
problem 


rids 


pean  way  it  can  be  suggested  by  surfaces, 
as  in  the  Torso  Belvedere).  On  relation  of 
surfaces  depends  much  of  the  appeal  to  the 
mechanical  sense,  the  sense  for  equilibrium 
and  control  of  bodily  movement.  In  order 
to  be  truly  effective,  both  this  linear  and 
this  areal  presentation  must  be  embodied 
in  a  three-dimensional  presentation,  where- 
upon the  influences  of  these  formal  devices 
will  be  ascribed  (illusorily)  to  an  actual 
spatial  existent  to  which  they  will  impart 
their  peculiar  emotional  suggestions.  It  is 
in  this  fusion  of  one-,  two-,  and  three- 
dimensional  presentations  that  the  real 
subtlety  of  the  sculptor's  art  resides.  But 
because  of  the  complexity  of  the  result, 
the  esthetic  analysis  of  the  sculptural 
appeal  has  remained  to  this  day  largely 
unguessed  and  unwritten. 

It  is  indeed  scarcely  surprising  that, 
while  the  esthetics  of  the  arts  of  one-  and 
two-dimensional  presentations  are  compar- 
atively well  understood  and  correctly  stud- 
ied, the  arts  of  three-dimensional  presenta- 
tion have  kept  their  secrets  to  themselves, 
so  that  sculpture  has  usually  been  con- 


BRYN     MAWR     NOTES 


OF    GREEK    ART 


sidered  with  the  utmost  naivete  and  archi- 
tecture has  seemed  a  simple,  open  and  un- 
ekisive  art — whereas,  in  reaUty,  because  it 
combines  with  its  owti  specific  device  of 
presentation  (soHds  cnclosino^  space)  the 
pecuHar  appeals  of  nearly  all  the  other  arts, 
it  affords  esthetic  phenomena  so  complex 
in  their  combinations  as  to  bewilder  and 
wholly  mislead  the  esthetician. 

Accordingly,  it  will  perhaps  be  excused 
as  a  not  entirely  disproportionate  emphasis 
if  the  remainder  of  this  study  be  devoted  to 
a  consideration  of  these  two,  esthetically 
the  most  highly  complex  of  the  arts,  and  to 
a  scrutiny  in  considerable  detail  of  the 
attainments  and  devices  of  Greek  sculpture 
and  architecture. 


AND     MONOGRAPHS 


75 


to  whose 
solution  our 
attention 
is  chiefly 

devoted 


76 


Spatial  pre 
sentation 
still  our 
criterion 
and  guide 


lifl"r(-t   of 
-loiir 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


III 

THE  ESTHETICS  OF  GREEK 
vSCULPTURE 

The  cardinal  esthetic  problem  in  the  analy- 
sis of  the  sculptviral  appeal  is  the  determi- 
nation of  the  way  in  which  statuary  works 
on  our  sense  for  spatial  construction.  We 
incline  to  view  wax-works  merely  as  arti- 
ficial human  beings  that  might  be  flesh  and 
blood  if  they  did  not  happen  to  be  wax. 
The  aim  is  delusion;  and,  beside  the  patent 
fact  of  immobility,  the  only  material  differ- 
ence between  original  and  imitation  is  the 
difference  of  material.  We  do  not  so  see 
sculpture  when  we  view  it  as  a  work  of  art. 
In  order  that  we  shall  not  so  see  it  (as  a 
realistic  illusion)  the  art  is  careful  to  omit 
one  of  the  essential  marks  of  the  real  world 
—its  colour.  Early  Greek  stone  carving 
did  not  do  this:  it  coloured  brilliantly, 
but  conventionally.  During  the  succeed- 
ing periods  the  lavish  use  of  colour  may 
have  gone  gradually  out  of  fashion.    Cer- 


BRYN     MAWR     NOTES 


OF     GREEK    ART 


tainly,  the  Hellenic  bent  for  representa- 
tions of  the  nude  tended  to  keep  the  poly- 
chromatic influence  subsidiary,  and  though 
the  nude  parts  were  somewhat  altered  in 
tint  by  the  process  which  the  Greeks  called 
gauosis,  this  seemingly  did  not  produce  an 
actual  illusion  of  human  flesh;  while  in 
bronze  there  obviously  could  be  no  inten- 
tion of  illusionary  colouring  (in  spite  of  a 
few  casual  anecdotes  of  instances  to  the 
contrary) . 

Gothic  sculpture  was  in  general  highly 
coloured.  The  Renaissance  (perhaps 
through  the  error  of  attributing  a  complete 
absence  of  colour  to  the  survi\-ing  ancient 
marbles  from  whose  surface  time  may 
merely  have  removed  all  traces  of  the  tints) 
accepted  a  colourless  convention  almost 
without  opposition.  From  that  time  on, 
the  tradition  of  unstained  marble  has 
maintained  an  almost  unquestioned  ascen- 
dancy. To-day  it  is  to  be  justified  not  as 
an  accidental  historical  heritage,  but  on 
purely  practical  esthetic  grounds,  since  it 
destroys  the  outright  illusion  and  thereby 
facilitates  the  peculiar  power  of  sculpture 


AND     IVI  O  N  O  G  R  A  P  H  S 


78 


ESTHETIC    BASIvS 


to  work  on  us  through  spatial  forms  of  its 
own  devising. 

In  particular,  the  blank  unorbed  eye,  by 
which  the  modern  sculptor  so  readily  makes 
us  accept  his  carven  men  and  women  as 
purely  ideal  equivalents  for  flesh  and  blood, 
was  a  device  seemingly  unknown  in  Greek 
times,  when  it  would  have  been  at  variance 
with  the  essential  trend  toward  naturalism 
which,  as  we  shall  see,  dominated  the  suc- 
cessive generations  of  sculptors. 

In  the  archaic  period  there  was  no  ques- 
tion of  using  colour  to  produce  a  material 
illusion.  Where  the  hair  of  the  head  and 
the  beard  could  be  painted  blue  or  clear 
bright  red,  we  need  scarcely  raise  the  ques- 
tion of  the  ulterior  puipose  of  such  decora- 
tion. (In  the  early  Hellenistic  Age,  when 
the  Alexander  Sarcophagus  was  made,  the 
realistic  illusion  was  much  heightened; 
yet,  even  then,  the  tones  seem  to  have  been 
so  clear  and  pure  that  we  may  doubt 
whether  anything  but  a  very  modified 
illusion  of  real  appearances  was  intended. 
In  view  of  the  reaHstic  attainments  of  the 
period,  it  is  not  safe  to  insist  upon  this 


BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 


OF     GREEK    ART 


point.  ]\Iore  certainly,  colouring  was  still 
half  conventional  in  the  period  of  Pheidias; 
but  we  are  told  on  good  authority  that 
Praxiteles  paid  considerable  attention  to 
this  aspect  of  the  art,  so  that  we  may 
assume  a  more  naturalistic  tendency  to 
have  set  in  during  the  fourth  century. 

It  would  seem  that  insofar  as  the  true 
colours  of  the  real  world  were  applied  to 
Greek  statuary  the  effectiveness  of  its 
formal  qualities  was  not  heightened  but 
diminished.  This  would  be  a  correct  de- 
duction were  it  not  for  the  fact  that  a 
judicious  use  of  colour  can  enhance  all 
those  formal  effects  which  depend  upon  the 


comparison  and  correlation  of  surfaces  and 
areas  (such  effects  as  those  of  pattern  and 
balance  of  masses),  as  well  as  emphasise 
outlines  by  contrasting  the  colour  of  adja- 
cent areas.  If  the  colour-scheme  be  kept 
conventional,  these  advantages  may  be 
turned  to  account  without  the  disadvan- 
tages attendant  upon  illusionary  colour; 
and  such  a  practice  must  have  obtained  in 
Greece  before  the  conventional  colouring 
inherited    from    the    archaic    period    had 


AND     MONOGRAPHS 


80 

ESTHETIC    BASIS 

Eflfect  of 
mass 

been  entirely  abandoned,  that  is  to  say, 
in  all  probability,  during  the  whole  of  the 
fifth  and  the  first  part  of  the  fourth 
centuries  B.C. 

To  return  to  an  earlier  part  of  the  argu- 
ment, the  cardinal  esthetic  problem  is  the 
determination  of  the  way  in  which  the 
sculptural  appeal  works  with  our  sense  for 
spatial  construction.  The  sculptor's  aim 
is  to  present  to  us  a  cubic  soHd  in  such  a 
manner  that  we  can  intimately  appreciate 
its  existence  as  a  three-dimensional  object. 
He  must  enable  us  to  apprehend  the  solid- 
ity of  solids  directly  by  mere  ocular  con- 
templation. 

Ordinarily  we  employ  a  sort  of  intellec- 
tual construction  toward  the  seen  world. 
From  the  various  appearances  of  objects 
from  varying  points  of  \'iew  we  infer  their 
cubic  shape  and  position  in  space.  We  read 
off  the  meaning  of  foreshortening  and  per- 
spective, and  so  get  at  an  understanding  of 
the  soHdity  of  objects  not  directly,  but  at 
second-hand.  But  in  the  apprehension 
of  the  sculptured  form  we  get  a  more  com- 
plete and  a  more  direct  visual  comprehen- 

I 

BRYN     MAWR     NOTES 

OF     GREEK    ART 

81 

sion  of  the  solid  object  as  a  soli(d.    We  do 
not  see  all  around  it  (that  clearly  is  a  geo- 
metric impossibility)  and  yet  we  are  inti- 
mately  aware   of   its   further   boundaries 
(which  are  the  surfaces  on  the  invisible 
sides). 

The  real  difficulty  in  spatial  apprehen- 
sion lies  in  the  fact  that  a  three-dimensional 
world  is  presented  to  our  eyesight  in  what 
amounts  to  a  two-dimensional  form  and 
we  have  to  construct  the  missing  dimension 
out  of  such  data.    The  dimension  in  depth 
away  from  the  eye  is  obviously  the  difficult 
one,  and  it  is  part  of  the  sculptor's  business 
to  construct  this  for  us  so  that  we  can  appre- 
hend it  without  mistake  or  trouble.    How- 
can  he  do  this?    By  removing  as  much  as 
possible  from  the  difficult  dimension  and 
showing  it  in  the  two  easy  ones.    By  loading 
the  two  dimensions,  he  lightens  the  third. 
In  practice,  this  amounts  to  the  employ- 
ment    of    three    very    definite    devices: 
(1)  intelligible  pose,  (2)  planes  of  compo- 
sition. (3)  ''modelling"  lines. 

The 
problem 

and  its 
solution 

AND     MONOGRAPHS 

I 

82 

ESTHETIC    BASIS 

Relation  of 
outline  to 
mass 

(1)  By  intelligible  pose  I  mean  simply 
that  the  model  must  be  presented  in  such 
a  position  that  the  beholder  can  clearly  and 
fully  understand  what  it  is  that  he  sees. 
This  seemingly  simple  demand  causes  the 
greatest  possible  amount  of  trouble,  just 
because  there  are  as  many  aspects  of  a 
statue  as   there  arc  points  of  view  from 
wliich  the  beholder  can  look  at  it.    In  the 
case  of  a  free-standing  statue  in  the  round. 
it  is  apparent  that  theoretically  there  are 
as  many  points  of  view  as  there  are  points 
on  the  circumference  of  a  circle,  and  that  is 
an     infinite     number.       Practically,     the 
spectator  will  not  demand  complete  intelli- 
gibility from  more  than  a  very  few  stand- 
points, and  may  usually  deem  himself  for- 
tunate if  he  can  find  £my  which  are  wholly 
satisfactory.    Even  with  these  limitations, 
it  must  be  remembered  that  it  is  one  and 
the  same  cubic  form  which  determines  all 
these  more  or  less  planilinear  appearances 
(just  as  a  hundred  different  photographs 
can  be  taken  of  a  single  solid)  and  a  change 

1 

B  R  Y  N     A  [  A  W  R     N  0  T  E  S 

OF     GREEK    ART 


occasioned  in  order  to  improve  one  aspect 
will  introduce  a  relative  change  into  all  the 
other  aspects.  Yet  we  began  by  demanding 
that  from  every  viewpoint  the  pose  should 
be  intelligible,  so  that  the  whole  construc- 
tion of  the  represented  object  as  a  solid  in 
space  may  be  read  off  from  any  one  of  this 
series  of  restricted  and  quasi  two-dimen- 
sional appearances. 

More  concretely,  we  may  demand  that 
no  foreshortening  should  take  place  if  it  is 
not  immediately  intelligible  as  a  fore- 
shortenmg,  so  that  we  may  apprehend  the 
actual  depth  of  the  element  which  appears 
abbreviated. 

In  order  to  meet  this  demand  the  sculp- 
tor may  try  to  make  the  silhouette  always 
so  characteristic  of  the  bodily  parts  which 
it  outlines  that  the  mere  contours  will  make 
them  intelHgible.i  In  this  way  he  will  be 
crowding  as  much  representational  sig- 
nificance as  possible  into  the  two  visible 
dimensions  and  leaving  as  little  as  possible 
to  the  invisible  dimension.  The  device 
depends  for  its  success  upon  the  sculptor's 
ability  to  draw  an  expressive  contour  and 


AND     MONOGRAPHS 


84 


ESTHETIC     BASIS 


upon  his  sensibility  to  linear  equivalents 
with  which  to  conjure  up  an  objective 
illusion. 

The  tradition  of  the  expressive  contoui* 
grew  up  and  matured  very  naturally  among 
the  Greek  sculptors.  Primitive  art  draws 
very  largely  in  profile,  since  the  profile 
view  is  the  most  readily  intelligible  and  the 
most  vividly  retained  by  the  visual  mem- 
ory. In  draughtsmanship,  foreshortening 
is  a  difficult  accomplishment  because  the 
outlines  which  it  demands  are  not  those 
which  the  mind  insists  upon  retaining  as 
characteristic.  Sixth  century  vase -designs 
are  all  based  on  profile  appearances.  This 
was  also  true  of  early' relief ,  because  the 
artist  proceeded  from  a  drawing  sketched 
upon  a  smooth  surface  of  stone  and  chipped 
away  the  background  around  this  design. 
More  surprisingly,  even  sculpture  in  the 
round  is  subject  to  similar  influences.  The 
sculptor  strove  to  embody  the  human  form 
as  he  visualised  it.  In  the  case  of  marble 
statuary  he  may  have  drawn  a  fiat  image  on 
the  face  of  the  stone  and  then  hewn  inward 
for  the  third  dimension  imtil  he  had  given 


BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 


OF     GREEK    ART 


his  sketch  a  solid  embodiment.  The  early 
statues  are  thus  calculated  from  a  single 
position,  from  immediately  in  front.  Their 
depth  was  apparently  controlled  from 
points  at  right  angles,  that  is  squarely  from 
the  right  and  left  flanks  of  the  statue.  In 
consequence  of  such  a  procedure,  the  statue 
was  evidently  fashioned  for  the  four  cardi- 
nal viewpoints  (front,  back,  right,  left) 
and  from  each  of  these  it  displayed  the 
characteristic  silhouette  which  our  visual 
memory  especially  retains. 

The  Man  with  the  Calf  (late  sixth  cen- 
tury Attic)  is  an  admirable  example  of  a 
frontally  composed  statue.  Seen  from  in 
front,  it  exhibits  a  pattern  of  line  and  sur- 
face such  as  a  drawing  or  flat  relief  might 
show.  As  we  move  around  the  stone,  this 
pattern  gradually  folds  up  and  vanishes, 
and  no  satisfactory  viewpoint  occurs  until 
we  come  squarely  on  the  flank,  when  a 
secondary  but  not  wholly  intelligible  com 
position  arises,  with  profiles  of  the  heads 
of  the  calf  and  its  carrier. 

So  marked  is  this  frontality  and  so  strik 
ing  is  its    two-dimensional    pattern,  that 


AND  MONOGRAPHS 


86 


E  vS  T  H  E  T  I  C     B  A  S  I  vS 


when  we  stand  squarely  in  front  it  is  almost 
impossible  to  see  the  vStatue  as  a  solid.  It 
seems  flat,  in  one  plane.  In  the  terms  of  our 
previous  discussion,  the  third  dimension 
has  been  so  cbained  of  its  content  and  the 
other  two  dimensions  have  been  so  filled, 
that  under  the  influence  of  the  plane-mak- 
ing pattern  there  is  nothing  to  give  the  illu- 
sion of  depth.  The  process  has  in  fact  been 
can-ied  too  far.  The  contour  has  been  made 
so  intelligible  and  the  frontal  plane  has 
been  so  emphasised  that  the  dimension  of 
depth  has  no  necessary  function  or  obvi- 
ous existence. 

Such  frontal  composition  has  the  patent 
advantage  of  insuring  an  expressive  con- 
tour— but  not  for  all  viewpoints.  How  a 
harmonious  succession  of  expressive  con- 
tours can  be  comV)ined  into  a  single  solid, 
so  that  from  every  point  of  view  the  statue 
may  be  immediately  intelligible,  thus  comes 
to  be  a  cardinal  artistic  problem  connected 
with  sculptural  pose.  The  Greeks  solved 
it  gradually.  A  century  after  the  Man  with 
the  Calf,  Polykleitos  has  not  yet  found  the 
full  solution.    His  formula  (as  embodied  in 


BRYN     MAWR     NOTES 


OF     GREEK     ART 


the  Doryphoros  and  the  Diadumenos) 
shows  only  a  frontal  solution.  The  rigid 
median  line  now  bends  in  a  long,  gentle 
curve  and  counter-curve  from  ankle  to 
neck;  but  this  curve  is  all  in  one  plane. 
The  weight-leg  and  free-leg  with  the  accom- 
panying raised  hip  and  lowered  shoulder 
are  all  vertical  and  lateral  displacements, 
visible  from  in  front  but  barely  appreciable 
in  the  side  view.  Pliny  complains  that 
Polykleitan  statues  are  too  ''square."^ 
Praxiteles  inherited  and  exaggerated  this 
fomiula,  accentuating  the  curve  but  still 
keeping  it  in  the  frontal  plane.  A  fifth  or 
early  fourth  century  statue  may  be  imme- 
diately recognised  and  dated  by  this  adher- 
ence to  frontal  composition.  A  century 
after  Polykleitos,  Lysippos  is  at  last  in 
command  of  the  mysterious  fonnula  for  the 
pose  which  shall  yield  expressive  contours 
for  every  \'iewpoint.  His  refinements  of 
pose  are  no  longer  merely  frontal  but  pass 
into  every  plane,  being  based  on  a  progres- 
si\-e  rotation  of  the  horizontal  axes  of  the 
human  body.  Pliny's  famous  phrase^ 
about   Lysippos,   ''nova   intactaque  ralione 


AND     MONOGRAPHS 


88 

ESTHETIC    BASIS 

quadratas    veterum    statiiras    penmdando/' 
makes  patent  reference  to  this  innovation. 
If  we  draw  an  imaginary  line  through  the 
two  ears,  another  through  both  shoulders, 
another  through  both  hips,  another  through 
both  knees,  another  through  both  ankles, 
we  shall  have  the  five  horizontal  axes.     If 
we  make  this  experiment  on  a  statue  of 
the  period  of  the  Man  with  the  Calf,  we 
shall  find  these  five  axes  all  pointed  in  the 
same  direction.    There  is  no  torsion  to  such 
a  perfectly  frontal  composition.    If  we  make 
the  same  experiment  on  some  of  the  early 
Hellenistic  statues,  we  shall  find  that  the 
axes  gradually  turn  like  the  needle  of  a 
compass  so  that  the  lowest  one  points  at 
right  angles  or  even  in  opposite  direction  to 
the  topmost.    This  gradual  torsion  carried 
through    the   whole   body   is   the   typical 
Hellenistic  (or  should  we  say  Lysippic  and 
Rhodian?)  formula  for  producing  an  "om- 
nifacial"    composition.      Thanks    to    its 
gradual  nature,  the  elements  in  intelligible 
profile   always   explain   the   adjacent   ele- 
ments which  are  moving  into  foreshorten- 
ing.    As   the   axes   are  often   distributed 

I 

BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 

OF     GREEK    ART 


through  a  right  angle  or  more,  it  is  Ukely 
that  there  will  always  be  some  element  in 
profile.^  From  the  employment  of  this  for- 
mula comes  the  extraordinary  complete- 
ness of  each  aspect  under  which  the  statue 
can  be  viewed  (since  each  aspect  is  ani- 
mated by  the  same  formula  as  all  the 
others),  and  the  remarkably  harmonious 
manner  in  which  each  aspect  arises  out  of 
the  preceding  and  melts  into  the  succeed- 
ing one,  as  we  move  around  the  statue. 

Excellent  illustrations  of  an  extreme  use 
of  the  formula  are  the  Dancing  Satyr  from 
Pompeii,  the  Seated  Hermes  from  Hercu- 
laneum,  the  "Narcissus"  or  "Listening 
Dionysos"  (all  three  in  the  Naples  Muse- 
um), and  the  Borghese  gladiator  in  the 
Louvre. 

Naturally,  not  all  Hellenistic  sculpture 
is  composed  to  this  formula  nor  is  the  for- 
mula always  carried  consistently  through 
all  the  axes;  the  axis  of  the  head  is  least 
likely  to  conform  since  there  is  no  obvious 


artistic  reason  why  it  should.  It  is  no 
academic  rule  of  perfection;  yet  it  recurs 
with  surprising  frequency  during  the  later 


A  N  D     M  O  N  0  GRAPHS 


90 

ESTHETIC    BASIS 

Relation  of 
surface  to 
mas3 

periods.  The  formula  (and  I  hope  that  this 
is  now  clear)  is  involved  in  the  artistic 
necessity  of  making  the  two  visible  dimen- 
sions expressive  of  the  representational  con- 
tent, so  as  to  make  the  construction  of  the 
invisible  third  dimension^  easy  for  us. 

This  process  of  construction,  of  defining 
the  limits  within  which  the  solid  exists,  is 
assisted  and  facilitated  in  Greek  sculpture 
by  the  use  of  patterns  and  planes  to  serve 
as  surfaces  of  reference,  as  it  were  spatial 
determinatives  setting  the  limits  within 
which  our  spatial  construction  of  the  solid 
must  operate. 

(2)  Planes  of  composition  thus  consti- 
tute a  second  device  for  facilitating  our 
comprehension  of  spatial  depth.  The  near- 
est point  (to  the  eye  of  the  spectator)  at 
which  empty  air  ceases  and  statue  begins 
marks  a  crucial  distance,  since  it  is  at  that 
point  that  our  spatial  construction  of  the 
work  of  art  properly  conmiences.  If,  how- 
ever, the  statue-solid  begins  for  us  not  with 
an  isolated  projection  but  with  a  considera- 
ble surface  all  lying  in  one  plane  appre- 
ciably at  right  angles  to  the  line  of  vision. 

I 

B  R  Y  N     M  A  W  R    NOTES 

OF     GREEK    ART 

91 

the  task  of  spatial  construction  is  greatly 
simplified.    And  if,  instead  of  a  complicated 
system  of  varying  distances  from  the  eye, 
the  parts  of  the  statue  are  ordered  together 
into  a  series  of  planes  appreciably  parallel 
to  the  front  plane,  the  task  of  referring 
every  portion  of  the  statue  to  its  exact 
proper  place  in  depth  is  now  reduced  to 
identifying  merely  the  plane  to  which  it 
belongs  and  to  ordering  the  planes  in  their 
proper  succession.     Finally,  if  there  is  a 
similar  indication  of  a  back  plane  behind 
which  no  element  of  the  statue  extends  or 
protrudes,  the  eye  clearly  grasps  the  spatial 
limits  (in  the  dimension  running  away  from 
the  eye)  between  which  the  whole  statue 
lies,  and  proceeds  easily  and  surely  to  con- 
struct the  statue-solid  in  its  extension  be- 
tween those  limits. 

Now  it  is  apparent  that  in  the  case  of  a 
modelled  human  bodj^  there  cannot  be  a 
true  flat  frontal  plane  (such  as  we  have 
described)  if  for  no  other  reason  than  be- 
cause the  body  is  everywhere  rounded  to  a 
greater  or  less  degree.     But  an  effective 
and  operative  suggestion  of  a  single  plane 

A  X  D     MONOGRAPH  S 

I 

92 

ESTHETIC    BASIwS 

can  be  produced  by  patternising  the  lines 
and  surfaces.     It  is  characteristic  of  pat- 
tern that  it  pertains  to  areas  which  are  seen 
together  on  an  equal  plane  of  projection. 
The  pattern  of  a  painting  exists  for  us  when 
we  consider  the  painted  surface  as  a  flat 
area  on  which  the  various  patches  of  colour 
lie;   but  the  pattern  vanishes  insofar  as 
we  project  the  picture  spatially  in  agree- 
ment with  its  representational  content  and 
read  off  these  colour-patches  as  objects  of 
a  real  world  in  spatial  perspective  (in  fact, 
as  a  picture  instead  of  a  decorative  design.) 
Insofar,  then,  as  we  visually  hold  together 
various  surfaces  and  lines  of  a  statue  into  a 
single  pattern  or  geometric  design  which 
they  make  up,  we  tend  to  project  them  all 
upon  a  single  plane  at  a  uniform  distance 
from  the  eye. 

Pattern  can,  therefore,  force  curvilinear 
surfaces  into  a  single  plane  and  thus  assist 
in  the  process  of  breaking  up  the  continuum 
of  spatial  extension  in  the  difficult  third 
dimension  into  a  succession  of  a  few  planes 
whose  relative  positions   are  more  easily 
apprehended. 

I 

B  R  Y  N     M  A  W  R    NOTES 

OF     GREEK    ART 


Pattern,  it  will  be  seen,  works  contrary 
to  a  three-dimensional  apprehension  be- 
cause everything  to  which  it  applies  is  by  it 
marshalled  into  a  single  plane.  Yet  if  it  is 
not  presented  too  insistently,  pattern  will 
serve  to  simplify  the  representata  and 
thereby  assist  the  process  of  visual  appre- 
hension through  which  solid  appearances 
are  constructed. 

(3)  But  the  most  potent  elements  in 
this  whole  process  are  the  numerous  devices 
of  linear  suggestion  by  which  the  third 
dimension  may  be  conjured  up.  These  may 
be  classed  together  and  called  "modelHng- 
lines."  When  we  make  drawings  in  black- 
and-white,  we  may  remove  the  look  of  flat- 
ness which  attaches  to  surfaces  between 
their  outlines,  either  by  appropriate  sug- 
gestion of  lights  and  shadows  to  suggest 
curvature  or  by  adding  properly  curved 
interior  lines.  The  Greek  sculptor,  adopting 
this  latter  device,  carved  lines  whose  cur- 
vature lay  in  the  plane  of  the  visible  dimen- 
sion in  order  to  suggest  a  cun^ature  in  the 
invisible  dimension.  This  is  a  little  more 
subtle  than  it  sounds.    Unlike  a  painting,  a 


A  N  D     ^[  0  N  O  G  R  A  P  H  S 


93 


Relation  of 
internal 
line  to  mass 


94 

ESTHETIC    BASIS 

statue,  being  actually  in  the  round,  possess- 
es  surfaces   which    are   already   correctly 
curved;  but  they  may  seem  fiat.    The  artist 
adds  lines  which  do  not  follow  the  actual 
cur\'aturc  of  the  projecting  masses  (since 
then  they  would  no  more  seem  curved  than 
the  whole  surface  in  which  they  lie)  but 
\A'hose  curve,  lying  in  a  plane  more  or  less 
at    right   cmgles,   cannot   fail   to  be   fully 
visible.      He  draws,   in  fact,   a  profile  of 
tlic  curved  mass  and  spreads  it  out  fiat  on 
that  curved  miiss's  own  surface. 

If   this   is   unclear   to   the   reader,   the 
instance  of  an  identical  procedure  in  the 
decoration  of  architectural  mouldings  will 
be  helpful.    Each  of  the  mouldings  of  Greek 
architecture  has  its  particular  outline  or 
profile  as  well  as  its  proper  surface-design 
or  decoration.     In  their  career  along  the 
side  of  a  building  these  mouldings  would 
tend    to   look  fiat.     To  obviate  such   an 
appearance,  in  certain  conspicuous  exam- 
ples the  linear  designs  of  the  surface  decora- 
tion are  based  on  the  curvature  or  profile 
of  the  moulding.     Thus  the  egg-and-dart 
uses  the  curve  of  its  profile  to  bound  the 

r 

B  R  Y  N     M  A  W  R     NOTES 

OF     GREEK     ART 


little  shields  or  ''eggs"  of  its  characteristic 
design;  the  Lesbian  cymation  employs  the 
ogee  of  its  profile  for  the  outline  of  the  pecu- 
liar leaves  which  are  its  characteristic  deco- 
ration; the  outline  of  the  little  beads  of  the 
string-courses  echoes  the  profile  of  the 
moulding  on  which  it  is  carved,  and  the 
rectangular-profiled  fillet  or  taenia  uses  the 
rectangular-lined  meander.  The  essential 
of  the  whole  matter  is  this:  these  curves 
(which  determine  and  outline  the  decora- 
tive design)  lie  in  a  plane  normal  to  the 
ordinary  line  of  sight,  so  that  they  are 
clearly  visible  and  not  foreshortened,  but 
at  right  angles  to  the  plane  of  curvature  of 
the  mouldings  which  they  adorn.  Their 
function  is  to  suggest  the  existence  of  that 
curvature  by  putting  its  outline  into  the 
visible  dimensions. 

This  is  just  what  is  done  in  Greek  sculp- 
ture, notably  in  the  Pheidian  period.  The 
"Fates"  of  the  Parthenon  pediment  are 
outstanding  examples  of  modelling  (that 
is,  projection  in  the  invisible  dimension 
suggested  by  equivalent  curves  lying  in  the 


AND  MONOGRAPHS 


96 

ESTHETIC    BAvSIS 

visible  plane.  The  Venus  Genetrix  will 
serve  for  another  example. 

Perhaps  it  is  not  too  much  to  assert  that 
the  sculptor  who  has  not  divined  this 
secret  (however  unconscious  he  may  be  of 
its  exact  formulation)  cannot  practise  his 
art  with  the  highest  success.  An  attentive 
eye  will  recognise  this  device  in  much  of  the 
best  work  of  the  modern  masters,  in  Michel- 
angelo very  notably,  but  nowhere  (I  ven- 
ture to  think)  so  consciously  and  consis- 
tently carried  out  as  in  the  "great  century" 
of  Greek  sculpture. 

The  device  of  "modelling-lines"  works 
directly  contrary  to  the  effects  produced  by 
patterns  and  planes.  This,  however,  does 
not  imply  that  these  opposing  formal 
methods  are  mutually  destructive  and  in- 
imical. Rather,  the  combination  and  just 
balance  of  their  contrary  influences  in  the 
same  work  of  art  constitute  one  of  the 
remarkable  opportunities  of  which  a  gifted 
sculptor  will  not  hesitate  to  avail  himself. 
The  "Fates"  of  the  Parthenon  are  again  a 
most  luminous  instance  and  argument. 

Thus:   (1)  by  intelligible  pose  with  its 

I 

BRYN     MAWR     NOTES 

OF     GREEK    ART 


expressive  contours,  and  (2)  by  planes  of 
composition  with  patterns  to  establish 
them,  and  (3)  by  the  correct  application  of 
modelling-lines,  the  third  dimension  is 
shorn  of  much  of  its  obscure  content,  with 
the  result  that  we  apprehend  the  statue- 
solid  directly  in  its  depth  and  spatial  exten- 
sion. We  apprehend  it  as  a  solid  and  not  as 
a  flat  picture-like  front-appearance  behind 
which  the  invisible  rest  is  assumed  to  lurk. 


AND     M 0  N  O  G  R  A  PUS 


98 


ESTHETIC    BASIvS 


Let  it  be  granted  that  as  a  result  of  all 
these  devices  we  actually  do  construct  the 
solid  spatially,  that  we  do  apprehend  its 
depth  directly  and  visually,  in  spite  of  the 
paradox  that  extension  in  the  third  dimen- 
sion is  invisible^ — what  then? 

It  is  here  that  physiological  esthetics 
may  find  it  convenient  to  break  off;  yet 
it  is  just  here  that  they  might  become  most 
valuable  and  interesting.  Clearly  the  mere 
trick  of  apprehending  a  solid  as  a  solid  by 
means  of  the  eyesight  alone  is  very  remark- 
able and  entertaining,  and  may  evoke  the 
pleasure  attendant  on  a  heightening  of  our 
ordinary  physical  faculties;  it  may  be  the 
sine  qua  non  of  specifically  sculptural  emo- 
tion; but  equally  clearly  it  cannot  be 
thought  to  be  the  sole  and  direct  cause  of 
that  emotion.  The  visual  apprehension  of 
solids  may  be  an  indispensable  factor  in  the 
sculptural  emotion;  but  it  is  not  in  itself 
an  adequate  description  or  characterisation 
of  that  emotion. 

It  seems  clear  that  we  cannot  progress 


B  R  Y  N     M  A  W  R     NOTES 


OF     GREEK    ART 


farther  unless  at  this  pomt  we  take  into 
account  the  representational  element — the 
fact  that  the  sculptor  is  not  busy  with  a 
mere  presentation  of  solids  as  solids,  but 
that  he  embodies  actual  images  of  living 
beings  and  above  all  else  delights  in  showing 
forth  the  human  body.  In  Greek  sculpture 
inanimate  objects,  except  as  the  most 
minor  accessories,  were  wholly  ruled  out 
during  the  fifth  and  fourth  centuries.  The 
lower  animal  forms  occur  in  relief,  but  very 
seldom  in  sculpture  in  the  round.  Patently 
this  was  not  mere  accident  or  casual  pre- 
ference, but  betokened  an  appreciation  that 
the  proper  sculptural  study  of  mankind 
was  man — as  though  in  some  way  the 
stereoscopic  illusion  obtained  some  secret 
value  when  it  was  concentrated  upon  an 
object  which  was  after  all  essentially  our- 
selves. 

There  is  a  present-day  tendency  among 
the  initiate  to  consider  the  pictorial  sub- 
ject-matter unimportant  and  irrelevant  to 
the  artistic  values.  This  may  be  a  good 
corrective  for  the  persistent  blindness  with 
which  a  large  part  of  the  general  public 


AND     MONOGRAPHS 


99 


Relation  of 
representa- 
tional 
content  to 
spatial 
forms 


100 

ESTHETIC    BAvSIS 

An  impor- 
tant para- 
graph 

fail  to  see  anything  in  art  except  the 
rcpresentata.  Taking  the  illusion  as  a 
reality,  they  proceed  to  interrogate  their 
every-day  feelings  toward  the  objects  under 
view,  considering  them  as  if  they  were  real 
objects  in  a  real  world.  This  is  particularly 
true  in  sculpture  and  leads  to  much  naive 
embarrassment  in  the  presence  of  the  nude. 
Still,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  repre- 
sentational element  is  actually  of  the 
greatest  import  to  sculpture. 

The  direct  visual  apprehension  of  a  solid 
as  a  solid  (which  we  have  defined  as  the 
prime  esthetic  differentia  of  sculptural  con- 
templation) is  psychologically  relevant  but 
artistically  unimportant  unless  the  solid  is 
also  apprehended  as  an  embodiment  of  an 
animate  object.  The  sculptor's  device  is 
a  means  of  giving  us  the  most  direct  and 
intimate  apprehension  of  the  animate  and 
animating  qualities  and  forces  of  the  object 
whose  appearance  he  has  imitated. 

Whether  or  not  we  project  ourselves 
sympathetically  into  the  statue,  I  do  not 
know.  I  feel  that  the  cardinal  objection 
to  the  empathy  theories  is  their  failure  to 

I 

B  R  Y  N     MA  W  R     N  0  T  \l  S 

OF    GREEK    ART 


measure  up  to  our  honest  and  actual  exper- 
iences. They  are  partly  tnie,  certainly; 
but  they  make  up  only  a  small  part  of  the 
mystery.  They  exaggerate  a  contributory 
factor  into  a  paramount  issue.  Still,  there 
is  some  very  clear  connection  between  our 
apprehension  of  the  solid  as  solid  in  the 
case  of  a  human  statue  and  the  fact  that 
the  only  other  method  of  direct  apprehen- 
sion of  spatial  solidity  is  our  awareness  of 
it  for  our  own  body.  It  may  not  be  strictly 
our  own  strength  or  power  of  movement  or 
agility  or  gravitational  equilibrium  which 
we  feel  to  be  heightened  while  we  contem- 
plate the  sculptural  indication  of  these 
qualities;  but  our  power  of  spatially  appre 
hending  the  statue  as  we  spatially  appre 
hend  our  own  bodily  selves  makes  us 
immensely  susceptible  and  sympathetic  to 
an  emotional  and  almost  muscular-physical 
understanding  of  such  qualities  when  they 
are  sculpturally  presented.  We  know  them, 
not  from  the  outside  (as  we  comprehend 
strength  when  we  see  a  strong  man  pull  or 
push  or  lift,  as  we  comprehend  speed  when 
we  watch  runners,  or  agility  as  when  we  see 


AND     MONOGRAPHS 


102 


First  con- 
clusions 
from  our 
analysis. 
(Cf.  chap.I) 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


a  mountain-goat)  but  from  the  inside,  in 
terms  of  what  they  are  for  their  possessor. 
And  we  apprehend  them  without  strain  or 
discomfort  or  other  physical  preoccupation. 
They  come  to  us  direct,  simple,  intense, 
sheerly  pleasurable.  Herein  may  be  the 
ultimate  secret  of  the  sculptural  appeal. 
It  is,  therefore,  not  enough  that  we  appre- 
hend a  solid  as  a  solid,  nor  yet  that  we  com- 
prehend that  the  solid  is  (let  us  say)  a 
human  being.  More  than  that,  we  must 
apprehend  the  animate  and  animating 
forces  and  qualities.  We  must  apprehend 
them  not  by  an  intellectual  inference  nor 
by  a  mere  second-hand  sympathetic  under- 
standing; in  sculptural  contemplation  we 
apprehend  them  still  more  immediately,  we 
feel  them  directly  and  as  it  were  from 
within.  The  mechanism  by  which  this  is 
accomplished  is  purely  formal.  It  consists 
in  devices  of  line,  surface,  and  gravitational 
arrangement,  to  which  the  represented 
object  is  made  to  conform.  These  devices 
are  in  themselves  abstract,  geometric,  and 
little  evocative  of  emotion;  they  assert 
their  magic  only  when  they  are  correctly 


BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 


OF     GREEK    ART 


fused  with  representational  matter.  So 
used,  they  are  all-important;  indeed,  the 
proper  employment  of  these  pure  forms  is 
the  second  great  secret  of  the  sculptor's  art. 
At  the  risk  of  repetition,  these  pure  forms 
of  sculpture  must  he  here  enumerated. 
They  include  all  the  devices  of  one-dimen- 
sional emphasis  which  were  discussed 
in  connection  with  linear  presentation. 
Through  these  are  occasioned  various 
suggestions  whose  common  characteristic 
is  the  absence  of  all  suggestion  of  gravita- 
tional weight  or  mass.  Then  there  are  the 
devices  of  tv\^o-dimensional  emphasis  which 
were  discussed  in  connection  with  relief 
carving.  Of  these  the  most  notable  is  pat- 
tern; but  there  are  numerous  other  ones, 
all  dealing  with  the  arrangement  of  areas. 
Through  these  are  occasioned  suggestions 
of  size,  internal  structure,  synthesis  of 
forces,  equilibrium,  and  other  similar  mat- 
ters, of  which  the  common  characteristic  is 
their  suggestion  of  static  mechanics  with- 
out much  suggestion  of  motion  or  of  mater- 
ial solidity  and  weight.  Finally  there  are 
the  devices  of  three-dimensional  emphasis, 


AND  MONOGRAPHS 


104 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


and  with  these  we  have  akeady  dealt  at 
length.  It  is  the  fusion  of  the  suggestions 
accming  from  an  artistically  satisfactory 
use  of  all  these  formal  devices  which  raises 
sculpture  out  of  the  category  of  a  merely 
imitative  craft  which  faithfully  copies  in 
terra  cotta,  stone,  or  bronze,  the  shapes  and 
appearances  of  men,  women,  and  animals, 
and  makes  of  it  an  art  with  all  an  art's 
equipment  for  arousing  great  human 
emotions. 


BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 


OF     GREEK    ART 


If  it  is  true  that  the  sculptural  art  bor- 
rows various  devices  peculiarly  appropriate 
to  certain  of  its  sister  arts,  we  can  perhaps 
find  therein  one  reason  why  artists  are  so 
frequently  impressed  with  a  sense  of  the 
community  of  all  the  arts,  even  though 
they  seldom  manage  to  bring  this  idea  to 
the  point  where  they  can  make  clear  what 
it  is  which  they  think  the  arts  have  in  com- 
mon. In  order  to  do  so  it  is  first  necessary 
to  recognise  the  extreme  complexity  and 
variety  of  the  esthetic  emotions  occasioned 
by  any  particular  art  and  to  sort  out  as 
many  contributory  factors  as  possible. 
One  would  then  discover  that  certain  of 
these  factors  recur  in  the  esthetic  complex 
of  emotions  incident  to  other  arts.  If  we 
have  once  come  to  recognise  that  nearly 
every  kind  of  stimulus  derivable  from 
almost  anything  in  heaven  or  earth  may  be 
associated  in  the  state  of  a  cultivated  mind 
under  the  impression  of  poetical  suggestion, 
we  wall  not  feel  that  there  is  anything  un- 
usual if  the  arts  borrow  various  ranges  of 


105 


Other 
factors  in 
the  sculp- 
tural appeal 


AND     MONOGRAPH  vS 


106 


EvSTHETIC    BASIS 


emotion  from  one  another.  It  would  be 
beside  the  point  to  make  this  analysis  for 
all  art;  but  on  the  basis  of  our  previous 
discussion  it  sliould  be  quite  easy  to  make 
this  analysis  for  sculpture.  It  would  read 
somewhat  as  follows: 

The  human  body  in  sculptural  represen- 
tation differs  from  its  prototype,  the  living 
body,  by  calling  attention  to  certain  quali- 
ties which  otherwise  tend  to  pass  unnoticed. 
By  being  motionless  it  presses  on  our  atten- 
tion its  particular  volume  and  configura- 
tion. This  immediate  apprehension  of  the 
mass  or  volume  of  a  represented  object  is 
the  primary  differentia  of  the  sculptural 
appeal.  This  apprehension  of  a  three- 
dimensional  solid  in  terms  of  its  surface 
aspect  and  its  bounding-lines  clearly  reciirs 
in  the  contemplation  of  architecture.  In 
utilising  this,  architecture  accordingly  bor- 
rows from  the  sculptural  appeal.  Our 
modem  architects  are  not  sufficiently 
aware  of  this.  They  are  reliant  upon  paper 
plans  and  paper  elevations;  they  design 
with  one  or  two  contours  in  mind,  that  is 
to  say,  those  which  they  set  down  in  these 


BRYN     MAWR     NOTES 


OF    GREEK    ART 


paper  elevations.  But  when  their  building 
is  built  in  three-dimensional  matter,  it  will 
reveal  a  host  of  contours  which  these  archi- 
tects never  considered;  it  will  in  fact  be 
subject  to  all  the  devices  which  occasion 
the  characteristic  appeal  of  the  sister-art 
of  sculpture.  Would  not  greater  sensitive- 
ness to  this  sculptural  element  save  us  from 
some  of  the  paper-flat  fagades,  iinfeeling 
sky-lines,  and  brutalised  comers  with  which 
our  modem  architects  present  us ;  or  are  the 
exigencies  of  rectangular  building  lots, 
retailed  at  fabulous  prices,  fatally  opposed 
to  such  an  artistic  renascence?  That  all 
depends,  in  the  long  run,  upon  what  we 
really  want — humanism  or  industrialism, 
the  highest  spiritual  attainment  or  the  great- 
est bodily  comfort  of  the  greatest  numbers. 
In  addition  to  this  characteristic  sculp- 
tural factor  there  are  always  other  factors 
prominent  in  sculptural  art.  We  cannot  see 
a  statue  without  seeing  its  bounding-lines 
or  contour;  and  as  we  move  around  the 
statue  this  contour  continuously  goes  over 
into  a  different  one,  so  that  our  emotional 
apprehension  of  the  outlines  is  not  merely 


AND     MONOGRAPHS 


108 

ESTHETIC     fJASIS 

equivalent  to  an  almost  numberless  series 
of  relief  appearances  viewed  from  points 
on  the  circle,  but  also  includes  the  transition 
of  one  aspect  into  the  next  and  the  mental 
reconstruction  of  all  these  transitions  in 
agreement  with  the  shape  of  the  three- 
dimensional  mass  which  we  have  all  the 
time  been  apprehending.     There  is  thus  a 
very  powerful  and  inseparable  fusion  of  a 
linear  element  with  the  mass  element,  and 
these  two  are  in  mutually  complementary 
relationship. 

Thirdly,  there  is  in  sculpture  the  factor 
of  chiaroscuro  or  of  light  and  shadow,  inti- 
mately involved  in  that   appreciation  of 
projections  and  hollows  which  determines 
our  apprehension  of  mass.    But  the  distri- 
bution  of  light   and  dark  constitutes   an 
arrangement     of     differently     illuminated 
surfaces  whose   mutual  relations   of  size, 
shape,  and  position  introduce  esthetic  fac- 
tors that  are  prevalent  in  the  art  of  painting 
and  drawing  and  which  may  be  called  pic- 
torial.   Since  every  surface  has  a  bounding- 
line  and  may  be  diversified  with  interior 

I 

B  R  Y  N     M  AWR     NOTES 

O  F     (;  R  E  E  K     A  R  T 


line,  a  further  linear  element  has  been  intro- 
duced. 

Lastly,  all  except  very  small  statues 
impress  us  as  having  weight;  and  even  if 
we  fail  to  be  aware  of  the  actual  weight  of 
stone  or  metal  and  consider  only  the  repre- 
sented object,  we  shall  have  a  sense  of 
weight  and  gravitational  pull  overcome  in 
that  equilibrium  of  forces  which  is  the  secret 
of  the  statue's  balance  and  immobility. 
This  sense  of  weight  and  thrust  and  balance 
is  so  prominent  and  characteristic  a  factor 
of  the  architectural  appeal,  that  we  may 
say  that  here  sculpture  borrows  from  arch- 
itecture. 

Clearly  the  importance  of  these  various 
components  or  factors  may  vary  enor- 
mously. In  a  figurine  the  sense  of  weight 
and  gravitational  pull  is  at  a  minimum; 
in  a  colossus  its  strength  is  enormously 
enhanced  so  that  it  may  become  one  of  the 
most  prominent  factors.  The  handling  of 
grooved  troughs  and  hollows  and  under- 
cuttings  will  determine  the  range  of  dark 
and  light,  as  will  the  depth  to  which  light 
penetrates  the  material  before  it  is  wholly 


AND     MONOGRAPHS 


110 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


absorbed  or  reflected.  Some  sculpture  is 
much  more  linear  than  other.  Gothic  has 
far  more  abundant  shadow  than  Greek: 
Greek  in  general  has  more  insistent  line 
than  Gothic.  And  these  are  but  the  most 
obvious  and  powerful  components  in  a 
result  which  is  after  all  as  complex  and  as 
diverse  as  are  the  works  of  sculpture  which 
men  have  made  or  the  minds  of  men  which 
have  contemplated  them. 

After  tlTJs  survey  of  the  principles  and 
practice  of  Greek  sculpture,  it  should  be 
possible  to  understand  somewhat  more 
clearly  the  nature  of  the  sculptural  appeal 
as  it  comes  to  us  from  fifth  and  fourth 
century  Hellenic  art. 

We  have  seen  that  the  fundamental 
device  of  the  art  is  the  visual  presentation 
of  a  solid  so  that  it  may  be  directly  and 
immediately  apprehended  in  all  its  spatial 
extent  and  depth;  that  because  of  the 
immediate  and  sensuous  character  of  this 
apprehension,  we  are  able  to  sense  strongly 
and  clearly  the  play  of  forces  which  ani- 
mate this  soHd,  when  we  see  it  not  as  mere 


B  R  Y  N     IM  A  W  R     NOTES 


OF     GREEK    ART 


111 


marble  or  bronze  but  as  that  which  it  repre- 
sents, an  animate  being  like  ourselves 
(though  perhaps  a  recognisably  more  har- 
monious and  perfect  being,  devoid  of  the 
imperfections  of  material  evils)  and  that 
finally  certain  purely  formal  devices  of  the 
art  facilitate  and  amplify  this  apprehension 
of  animating  forces,  which  in  turn  reacts 
upon  our  own  sense  of  animate  energy.  Out 
of  this  emotional  apprehension,  occasioned 
in  this  manner,  arise  all  those  feelings  of 
physical  animation,  elation,  exaltation,  or 
whatever  vague  and  inexpressive  words 
we  may  use  in  trying  to  convey  to  others 
verbally  a  sense  of  our  innermost  experience 
from  an  artistically  effective  piece  of 
sculpture. 

Let  it  not  be  thought,  however,  that  the 
foregoing  is  intended  as  an  exhaustive 
account  of  the  emotional  content  of  the 
sculptural  appeal.  Purposely  it  has  con- 
fined itself  to  the  most  distinctive  and 
characteristic  elements.  But  with  these 
are  blended  amazingly  many  minor  fac- 
tors: our  associations  of  every-day  life, 
which  are  called  up  at  sight  of  the  repre- 


Still  other 
factors 


AND     MONOGRAPHS 


112 


ESTHETIC     BASIS 


sented  object,  would  alone  be  a  highly  com- 
plex element,  especially  when  w^e  remember 
the  range  from  mere  sensuous  delight  to 
direct  sexual  stimulation  that  may  be  pre- 
sent in  the  contemplation  of  the  nude.  It 
w^ould  be  foolish  to  assert  that  these  asso- 
ciations are  in  no  way  present  or  involved. 
But  apart  from  all  such  artistically  extran- 
eous elements  (extraneous,  since  they  reside 
more  in  the  representational  illusion  than 
in  the  actual  working  of  the  art  as  an  art) 
and  amid  all  this  characteristically  human 
complication  of  elements,  it  ought  to  be 
possible  to  trace  the  dominant  and  peculiar 
emotional  contribution  which  the  exigen- 
cies and  possibilities  of  the  sculptor's  art 
occasion;  and  this  I  have  tried  to  do  inso- 
far as  the  conventions  and  underlying  prin- 
ciples of  Greek  art  may  be  accessible  to  our 
analysis  to-day,  two  thousand  years  after 
the  disappearance  of  the  civilisation  in 
which  that  art  was  so  conspicuously  and 
successfully  practiced. 


B  R  Y  N     M  A  W  R     NOTES 


OF     GREEK     ART 


Quite  apart  from  all  these  devices  of  pure 
form,  the  representational  element  in 
Greek  sculpture  was  modified  in  the  inter- 
est of  that  quality  called  Idealism — the 
property  of  Greek  art  which  more  than 
any  other  has  been  extolled  and  misunder- 
stood by  succeeding  centuries  of  classical 
enthusiasts.  Into  the  true  character  of 
this  "idealism"  in  Greek  sculptural  repre- 
sentation of  the  human  form  it  is  essential 
that  we  should  now  enter.  In  order  to  do 
so,  it  will  be  useful  to  discover  first  how  these 
idealising  tendencies  arose,  since  they  are, 
in  their  origin,  almost  accidental  inherit- 
ances from  the  primitive  and  archaic 
periods. 

Truth  to  Nature,  fidelity  to  the  actual 
shapes  and  appearances,  is  the  lodestar  that 
leads  the  sculptors  on.  It  is  also  the  song 
of  the  sirens,  a  Lorelei  to  bring  their  ships 
upon  the  rocks ;  for  in  the  very  moment  of 
attainment  the  true  art  of  sculpture  goes 
to  wreck  and  vanishes  from  sight,  broken 
on  the  reefs  of  a  mere  imitative  realism. 


AND     MONOGRAPHS 


113 


The  repre- 
sentational 
element. 
Truth  to 
Nature 


always  a 
dominant 
end  or  aim 


114 

ESTHETIC     BASIS 

profoundly 
influencing 
the  devel- 
opment of 
sculptural 
technique 
and 

occasioning 
its  periods, 
viz.,  (1) 
primitive, 
(2)  archaic 

That  this  is  really  so,  may  be  easily  (but 
not  briefly)  proven  by  an  examination  of 
the  history  of  any  gi-eat  epoch  of  sculptural 
attainment,  though  we  must  consider  both 
the  technical  history  and  also  the  esthetic 
properties  of  sculptural  form.  For  my 
particular  field  of  Greek  art,  I  must  assume 
that  the  historical  development  is  suffi- 
ciently known  to  pennit  a  very  brief  sketch 
of  it  in  place  of  a  chapter-long  chronicle. 

Greek  sculpture  in  its  beginnings  was 
entirely  primitive.  In  the  course  of  the 
SLxth  century  B.  C,  it  passed  through  its 
archaic  period,  a  period  which  reached  at 
the  beginning  of  the  fifth  century  a  high 
degree  of  stylistic  development  and  yet 
remained  clearly  ''archaic"  in  quality. 
This  quality  is  very  clearly  and  accurately 
definable,  and  depends  primarily  on  the 
substitution  of  set  schematic  forms  for  the 
irregular  and  variegated  appearances  of  the 
real  world.  An  artist  of  this  period  cannot 
master  all  the  torsions  and  tensions,  the 
projections  and  cavities  which  real  objects 
present,  but  confines  himself  to  a  simple 
standard   appearance   from   a   single   and 

] 

BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 

OF    GREEK    ART 

115 

favorable  point  of  view.    The  long  locks  of 
hair  which  fall  over  the  back  and  shoulders 
present  in  life  a  great  complexity  of  disap- 
pearing and  reappearing  lines  and  surfaces ; 
but  the  archaic  sculptor  devises  a  flowing 
zig-zag  groove  to  suggest  the  general  look 
of  these  long  locks,   and  repeats  this  in 
parallel  succession  over  the  surface  of  stone 
which  he  has  blocked  out  for  the  hair. 
Neatness  of  execution   and  sharpness   of 
line  become  the  obvious  criteria  of  success, 
so  that  the  great  archaic  craftsmen  will 
carve   these    zig-zags    in    the   most    mar- 
vellous abundance  and  the  most  finished 
delicacy.     But  no  matter  how  much  they 
labor,  they  will  not  bring  the  stone  to  the 
appearance   of   actual   hair,    because   the 
schema  of  the  parallel  zig-zag  is   only   a 
geometric  and  conventionalised  equivalent 
for  the  true  surfaces  and  projections  of  the 
living  model. 

A    different    schematic    design    will    be 
devised  for  the  curled  locks  over  the  fore- 
head.    Schemata  will  be  found  for  eye- 
socket  and  eye-lid,  ear,  mouth,  muscles  of 
torso  and  back,  fingers,  toes,  and  all  the 

AND     MONOGRAPHS 

I 

116 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


rest  of  the  body.  And  all  these  schemata 
will  be  characterised  by  a  geometric  sim- 
plicity and  an  unvarying  repetition. 

Consequently,  as  the  archaic  period  ad- 
vances, a  wonderful  decorative  abundance 
of  rather  abstract  linear  forms  will  cover 
the  sculptural  surfaces  more  and  more  pro- 
fusely till  they  seem  as  rich  as  tapestries 
or  oriental  rugs.  This  archaic  craftsman- 
ship, full  of  the  most  loving  detail  and  the 
most  engaging  intricacies,  makes  a  very 
strong  appeal  to  the  modern  world,  which 
has  no  difficulty  in  comprehending  its 
devices  and  desires. 

In  Italian  painting  Botticelli  stands 
near  the  culmination  and  close  of  the 
archaic  period  of  his  particular  epoch  of 
painting.  One  has  only  to  look  at  the 
linear  forms  for  hair,  drapery,  features, 
waves,  flowers,  and  shore-line  in  the  famous 
Birth  of  Venus,  to  discover  over  again  all 
the  schematic  devices  of  late  sixth  century 
Greece. 

Gothic  sculpture  in  the  twelfth  century 
A.  D.  was  passing  through  the  same  phase. 
So  similar  are  its  schematic  devices  that 


BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 


OF     GREEK     ART 


many  an  untrained  observer  will  scarcely 
be  able  to  tell  you,  in  the  case  of  two  photo- 
graphs of  sculptured  heads,  which  is  archaic 
Greek  and  which  is  archaic  Gothic. 

In  all  these  periods  archaism  dies  the 
same  death .  I  ts  final  over-refinement  forces 
a  realisation  that  it  is  flagrantly  and  funda- 
mentally untrue  to  actual  appearances.  A 
period  of  simplicity  ensues.  The  repeti- 
tions, the  parallelisms,  the  minute  scale 
for  surface-lines,  are  abandoned.  A  few 
forms  are  used,  but  these  are  as  like  the 
real  thing  as  the  sculptor's  awakened  sense 
for  realism  can  achieve. 

The  bronze  charioteer  of  Delphi  will 
serve  admirably  for  illustration.  Its  sim- 
plicity is  largely  due  to  the  preservation  of 
the  schematic  devices  of  the  archaic  period, 
which  are  kept  unchanged  in  their  essential 
shape.  The  long  vertical  flutings  of  the 
drapery  are  unbroken  in  their  career  of 
alternate  light  and  shadow;  yet  their  pro- 
files depart  subtly  yet  sensibly  from  the 
set  geometry  of  their  implicit  schema.  There 
is  almost  the  formality  of  a  fluted  column; 
yet,  unlike  such  a  column,  the  arris  against 


117 


(3)  transi- 
tional 


AND     MONOGRAPHS 


118 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


the  sky  flickers  and  wavers,  and  the  outline 
of  the  driver  runs  through  a  whole  series  of 
c-hangino:  contours  as  we  move  around  the 
statue.  For  the  sleeves  of  the  garment  a 
more  finely  wrinkled  schema  is  set,  every- 
where repeated,  and  everywhere  tempered 
from  strict  parallelism  and  geometric  repe- 
tition by  tiny  irregularities  and  departures 
from  the  norm.  With  the  schematic  forms 
for  the  hair,  with  the  set  geometry  of  curves 
for  eye-brows  and  eye-lids,  forehead  and 
cheek  and  chin,  it  is  alwa^^s  the  same — 
the  uneven  tremor  of  life  shaking  the  un- 
physical  perfection  of  the  mental  constnic- 
tions  of  an  ideal  geometry. 

In  all  this,  one  point  must  be  labored  at 
risk  of  over-emphasis.  To  each  element  of 
the  representation  (free-hanging  gown, 
close-drawn  drapery,  hair,  features)  there  is 
allotted  only  one  standard  form,  a  schema 
based  on  the  geometric  simplification  of  the 
actual  appearance,  in  conformity  with  its 
visual  memory-image.  This  single  form 
must  be  repeated  as  much  as  necessary  in 
order  to  cover  and  inform  the  surface  to 
which   it   applies.     Thus  the  schema  for 


BRYN     MAWR     NOTES 


OF     GREEK    ART 


free-hanging  drapery  must  be  repeated  over 
all  the  drapery  which  hangs  free.  Tliere 
results  a  clear  division  of  the  whole  statue 
into  areas  each  characterised  by  some  pecu- 
liar line-form  or  pattern  which  everywhere 
distinguishes  it  and  which  is  inherently 
appropriate  to  the  representational  inten- 
tions at  that  point.  That  is  why,  in  the  art 
of  this  period,  critics  find  no  ''irrelevant 
lines"  (how  should  there  be;  where  would 
they  come  from?)  and  are  complimentary 
toward  ''structural  simplicity"  and  clear 
structural  articulation.  For  the  Greek  these 
high  effects  were  no  mystery.  He  was 
merely  keeping  to  his  inheritance  of  sche- 
matic forms  and  tempering  them  in  the 
direction  of  the  confused  diversity  of  the 
real  world.  In  consequence  of  his  own 
method,  he  could  not  fail  to  have  his  sensi- 
bilities awakened  so  as  to  grasp  the  secret 
of  large  construction  through  simple  homo- 
geneous areas  and  of  simplicity  of  effect  by 
correlation  of  similar  linear  forms.  The 
accidents  of  primitive  draughtsmanship 
were  beginning  to  go  over  into  esthetic 


AND     MONOGRAPHS 


120 


ESTHETIC     BASIS 


(4)  strong 


devices  amenable  to  the  imaginative  voli- 
tion of  artistic  creation. 

Certainly,  the  archaic  schemata  are 
subjected  to  improvement  so  that  their 
fidelity  to  Nature  is  being  constantly  aug- 
mented. And  since  the  correct  rendering 
of  living  shapes  is,  after  all,  the  supreme 
technical  objective,  we  should  expect  to 
see  a  very  uneven  attainment  and  even  in 
the  same  piece  of  sculpture  find  the  tradi- 
tional renderings  side  by  side  with  unex- 
pected vivid  and  brilliant  bits  of  natural- 
ism. This  is  precisely  the  quality  which 
frequently  occurs  to  puzzle  the  attentive 
student  of  the  period.  The  pedimental 
sculpture  of  the  Zeus  temple  at  Olympia, 
the  Boston  counterpart  of  the  Ludovisi 
throne,  the  Esquiline  Venus  (if  she  be 
rightly  classed  as  of  this  period)  reveal  just 
this  uneven  command  over  tnie  appear- 
ances. But  everywhere  the  framework  of 
the  older  tradition  is  apparent. 

When  the  constant  repetition  of  a  set 
linear  schema  over  an  entire  plastic  area 
palls  on  the  sculptor  (just  as  the  uncritical 
decorative  parallelism  of  the  archaic  period 


B  R  Y  N     M  A  W  R     NOTES 


OF     GREEK    ART 


had  palled  on  his  predecessors)  the  transi- 
tion period  gives  place  to  the  period  of 
strength,  the  age  of  the  great  masters  of 
the  Periclean  period,  the  Athenian  Pheidias 
and  the  Argive  or  Sikyonian  Polykleitos. 
Naturally  no  break  with  the  preceding 
generation  is  discernible.  The  schematic 
tradition  still  lurks  under  the  linear  pre- 
sentations, and  the  very  same  forces  which 
gave  to  the  Delphic  charioteer  its  harmony 
and  simple  greatness  are  still  operative. 

It  follows  that  the  work  of  the  Pheidian 
period  shows  only  an  incomplete  approxi- 
mation to  naturalism.  In  the  preceding 
period  truth  to  Nature  tempered  the  sche- 
matic forms;  now  the  schematic  (and  other 
more  purely  artistic)  forms  temper  truth 
to  Nature.  Yet  a  complete  truth  to  Nature 
can  be  attained  only  by  a  far-reaching  and 
accurate  grasp  of  detail,  and  this  is  too 
difficult  to  be  achieved  immediately;  only 
the  broader  and  more  essential  elements 
are  recorded.  There  results  a  style  of  great 
breadth  and  power:  the  archaic  has  gone 
over  into  the  strong  period.  The  sculptor's 
attention  is  inevitably  drawn  to  the  larger 


AND     MONOGRAPHS 


122 


(5)  fine 


EvSTHETIC     BASIS 


formal  effects  of  broad  surfaces  and  con- 
spicuous lines  instead  of  to  the  multiplica- 
tion of  decorative  detail.  He  learns  what 
effects  come  from  the  balanced  masses  of 
unbroken  surfaces  and  from  the  travel  of  an 
uninterrupted  line,  and  his  work  gains 
immeasurably  in  power  by  the  suppression 
of  "irrelevant  detail"  which  is  forced  upon 
him  by  his  inability  to  fashion  those  details 
and  to  include  them. 

Pheidias  and  Polykleitos  are  the  great 
masters  of  this  period.  The  outstanding 
elements  of  their  style  are  precisely  those 
of  the  period  in  general.  So,  Michelangelo 
is  the  "strong"  sculptor  of  the  Renaissance. 
He  could  scarcely  have  been  so  had  not  his 
lifetime  happened  to  fall  in  the  strong 
period  of  his  sculptural  epoch. 

Inevitably,  in  Greek  sculpture  as  in  cor- 
responding other  times,  as  the  period 
advances,  greater  and  greater  approxima- 
tion to  natural  truth  ensues,  detail  upon 
detail  is  correctly  apprehended  and  em- 
bodied in  the  sculptural  corpus.  There 
comes  a  time  when  the  more  purely  formal 
traditions  of  lines  and  masses,  though  they 


B  R  Y  N     M  A  W  R     NOTES 


OF     G  R  E  E  K    A  R  T 

123 

are  still  operative,  are  nearly  obscured  by 
these    formally    irrelevant    details    which 
stricter  fidelity  to  Nature  has  introduced. 
Just  at  this  stage  and  because  there  is  so 
nice    a    balance    between    the    illusion   of 
ol)jecti\'e  appearance  and  the  more  geo- 
metric and  abstract  beauty  of  sculptural 
form,  there  arises  a  period  of  very  great 
distinction.     To  most  later-day  collectors 
(and  to  all  that  period's  contemporaries) 
this  will  seem  the  period  of  finest  flower. 
It  will,  indeed,  be  the  period  not  of  strength 
but  of  beauty.    It  is  the  period  of  Praxi- 
teles, of  full-blown  Gothic,  of  Raffael  and 
Titian,    of    Benvenuto    Cellini    with    his 
Perseus  and  Medusa,  and   the  youth  of 
Bernini  when  he  did  his  group  of  Apollo 
and  Daphne. 

But  the  same  force  which  brought  this 
period  on  also  brings  its  change  and  disap- 
pearance.     The   realistic   details   increase 
until  fidelity  to  Nature  makes  most  of  the 
earlier     formalisations     impossible.       The 
artists  copy  the  human  body  as  it  is:    so 
much  the  worse  if  it  has  not  the  formal  ele- 
ments of  power  c'lnd  beauty  upon  it.    The 

(6)  free  or 
naturalistic 

AND     MONOGRAPHS 

I 

124 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


artist  must  find  his  expression  through 
things  as  they  really  are.  The  stone  or 
bronze  is  almost  a  replica  now  of  the  living 
model.  The  model  therefore,  like  an  actor, 
must  itself  embody  the  emotional  expres- 
siveness which  the  artist  intends  to  com- 
municate to  his  public.  Statuary  is  almost 
the  craft  of  turning  cleverly  posed  tahleaiix 
vivants  into  marble  or  metal.  Human 
bodies  are  chosen  as  models  for  their  own 
natural  beauty,  as  in  the  Syracuse  Aphro- 
dite or  the  Capitoline  Venus  (or  even  for 
the  stimulation  from  their  ugliness  or  unus- 
ual qualities,  as  in  the  Gauls  of  the  Pcrga- 
mene  artists);  poses  are  reproduced  liter- 
ally for  their  physical  attraction  or  their 
energy,  strength  and  power  displayed  in 
actual  use.  This  last  period  is  accordingly 
complex  and  many-sided.  It  is  not  merely 
the  period  of  Naturalism  and  Expressive 
Realism,  but  of  Theatricalism  and  Sensa- 
tionalism wherein  (since  everything  must 
proceed  from  true  and  faithful  appearances) 
the  objects  of  the  real  world  are  tortured 
into  striking  and  emotionally  moving  poses 
or  combined  in  exciting  situations.       We 


BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 


OF    GREEK    ART 


125 


have  the  Drunken  Woman,  the  Laokoon. 
the  Famese  Bull,  the  Borghese  Warrior, 
and  all  the  other  familiar  virtuosities  of  the 
Hellenistic  Age. 

With  the  culmination  of  this  period 
comes  the  attainment  of  that  goal  which 
glimmered  above  the  crude  beginners  of 
the  art  and  led  them  to  find  geometrically 
simplified  equivalents  for  the  bewildering 
unseizable  variety  of  seen  appearances, 
and  thereby  opened  up  the  archaic  period. 
This  same  gUmmering  and  unreachable 
objective  destroyed  the  artificialities  of  the 
archaic,  produced  the  simple  forms  of  the 
strong  period,  gave  the  wealth  of  detail 
which  turned  the  strong  into  the  fine,  and 
at  last  overwhelmed  the  period  of  beauty 
with  the  abundance  of  naturalistic  detail. 
Throughout,  the  same  power  makes  each 
period  and  destroys  it,  and  at  the  last  so 
dominates  the  sculptor's  art  as  to  leave  no 
room  for  the  other  elements  from  which 
it  drew  most  of  its  power  and  appeal.  At 
the  end,  when  the  goal  is  attained  and  no 
further  direction  of  progress  is  apparent, 
the  sculptors,  aware  of  the  aridity  of  their 


(7;  eclectic 

and 

imitativi 


AND  MONOGRAPHS 


126 


These 
periods  a 
recurrent 
cycle  in  the 
epochs  of 
;ivilisation 


B  S  T  H  E  T  I  C    B  A  vS  I  S 


success,  turn  mournful  and  wistful  glances 
back  toward  tlie  earlier  periods  whose  naive 
delight  and  unsophisticated  energy  and 
enthusiasm  are  denied  to  their  accomplish- 
ed and  facile  days.  Most  of  all,  the  period 
whose  contrast  with  their  own  is  mosl 
flagrant,  the  period  of  ripe  or  even  over- 
full archaism,  attracts  them.  There  ensue 
"revivals,"  precious  enthusiasms  of  the 
dilettanti — the  fads  of  the  Neo-atticists. 
the  enthusiasm  of  the  Augustan  Age  for 
Kanachos  and  Kalamis,  in  more  modern 
times  the  neo-Gothic,  neo-Oreek,  and  all 
the  other  resuscitations  which  ha\-c  made 
of  modern  architecture  an  eclectic  thing  of 
copy-book  and  pastiche,  the  Pre-Raphael- 
ites  in  painting,  the  present-day  enthusiasm 
for  the  archaic  Greek  and  all  unde^■elopcd 
periods  of  artistic  nascence  the  world  over. 
Sub  specie  acternitatis,  artistic  epochs  are 
cycles,  each  moving  through  identically  the 
same  phases  under  the  same  forces  to  the 
same  ultimate  result.  What  most  aston- 
ishes the  student  of  these  cycles  is  the 
inevitable  progress  of  each  phase  to  its 
own  destruction,  all  because  an  artistically 


B  R  Y  N     U A W  R     NOT  E  S 


OF     GREEK    ART 


almost  irrelevant  objective  (fidelity  to  seen 
appearances)  exerts  a  supreme  control, 
while  the  seemingly  true  and  relevant 
objective  of  the  art  (control  of  the  esthetic 
fomis  which  determine  the  sculptural 
appeal)  is  never  clearly  set  up  as  the  true 
one  to  be  striven  for.  Rather  than  the 
question — "What  are  the  expressive  forms 
of  my  art,  into  obedience  with  which  I 
must  mould  my  matter?"  the  sculptor 
seems  to  put  himself  the  query — "Have  I 
caught  the  true  look  and  fashion  of  the 
things  which  I  portray?"  Apparently,  the 
one  criticism  which  artists  have  been  least 
able  to  endure  or  to  meet,  has  been  the 
artisticall}^  rather  gratuitous  one — "You 
have  failed  to  copy  Nature  correctly  I" 

Removed  by  lapse  of  centuries  from  the 
whole  cycle  of  Greek  sculpture,  we  can  see 
that  the  works  of  each  period  have  artistic 
value  and  that  what  seemed  at  the  time  to 
be  progress,  rendering  one's  predecessor's 
methods  obsolete,  was  always  realistic 
advance  but  not  necessarily  greater  artistic 
achievement.  How  we  are  to  rate  these 
various    periods    for    this,    their    artistic 


AND     MONOGRAPHS 


128 


EvSTHETIC     BASIvS 


achievement,  is  a  problem  for  the  Canon 
of  Taste  to  decide.  Some  critics  will  see 
the  peak  already  attained  in  the  late 
archaic,  and  class  all  subsequent  products 
as  decline;  others  prefer  the  period  of 
strength,  others  the  period  of  beauty;  few 
will  put  their  preference  so  late  as  the  final 
stage  of  Naturalism  or  Eclecticism. 

The  present  study,  being  an  inquiry  into 
artistic  forms,  must  leave  unraised  the 
questions  which  belong  to  the  province  of 
Taste,  and,  without  passing  judgement  on 
relative  merits,  must  try  to  discover  how 
the  pure  forms  of  sculpture  were  employed. 

For  the  archaic  period  these  "forms" 
have  been  abundantly  studied;  but  it  is 
essential  to  remember  that  they  are  in  their 
origin  artistic  accidentals,  mere  devices  of 
convenience  by  which  the  early  artist  helps 
himself  out  of  the  difficulties  of  imitating 
seen  appearances,  and  that  they  only 
acquire  artistic  significance  in  proportion 
as  the  sculptors  learn  to  turn  them  to 
account  for  purely  artistic  rather  than 
merely  representational  ends.  There  is 
here  a   very  present  danger  of  confusing 


B  R  Y  N     M  A  W  R     NOTES 


OF     GREEK     ART 

129 

Origin  with  Validity  (as  the  manuals  of 
logic  sometimes  term  this  fallacy)  and  of 
imagining  that  because  we  have  discovered 
how  the  various  conventions  and  devices 
arose  we  have  therefore  fully  explained  and 
understood  them. 

In  order  to  throw  light  on  the  peculiar 
conventions  of  archaic  art,  the  behaviour 
of  savages  and  children  has  been  much 
interrogated.  The  purpose  is  by  wide- 
ranging  comparisons  to  elicit  the  presence 
of  certain  common  conventions  in  all  primi- 
tive art  and  to  explain  these  conventions 
on  general  psychological  or  material 
grounds.  The  results  have  justified  the 
attempt  and  have  led  to  a  wholly  new  un- 
derstanding of  artistic  origins  in  Greece  and 
elsewhere. 

Briefly,  these  comparative  studies  have 
established  the  thesis  that  the  primitive 
draughtsman  does  not  draw  from  life  but 
from  memory.  Those  of  us  who  have  no 
knack  for  drawing  may  perhaps  appreciate 
the  unreasonableness  in  a  demand  that  we 
should  "just  draw  things  as  they  look;  put 
down  what  you  see!"  and  realise  that  until 

AND     MONOGRAPH  S 

I 

130 


ESTHETIC     BASIS 


;i  race  has  begun  to  learn  to  draw,  the  actual 
changeful  appearances  of  things  elude  any 
attempt  to  find  their  direct  and  faithful 
linear  equivalent.  Primitive  drawing  is 
not  so  much  a  crude  and  incomplete  ren- 
dering of  the  correct  outline,  as  a  sort  of 
visual  embodiment  of  those  notions  for 
which  nouns  and  names  are  symbols. 

We  can  perform  the  crucial  experiment 
ourselves.  At  each  of  the  names,  "hut," 
"frog."  "fly,"  a  mental  image  is  called  up 
with  more  or  less  distinctness.  If  we  try 
to  transfer  this  mental  picture  to  paper,  we 
shall  discover  that  it  possesses  some  very 
surprising  and  yet  perfectly  reasonable 
characteristics.  Since  it  is  only  a  general 
image  applicable  to  any  of  its  species,  it 
will  show  only  essentials,  but  it  will  include 
all  these.  A  quadruped  must  have  four 
legs,  a  bird  must  show  two  wings;  a  human 
face  will  appear  in  full-front  view  or  per- 
haps in  profile  with  full-front  eyes.  In 
fact,  a  primitive  drawing  tends  to  be  a 
mental  construction  exhibiting  just  those 
observations  and  analyses  which  the  mind 
has  made  for  its  own  pragmatic  interests. 


BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 


OF     GREEK     ART 


Accordingly,  we  should  not  be  surprised  at 
finding  in  a  primitive  picture  or  statue  of  a 
human  l)eing  an  almost  logical  rigour.  The 
right  half  of  the  body  will  have  no  reason 
to  differ  in  position  or  appearance  from  the 
left  half ;  the  head  and  eyes  will  turn  neither 
to  this  side  nor  to  that;  the  arms  and  hands 
will  hang  close  to  the  sides  or  be  raised 
evenly  or  be  folded  symmetrically.  One 
lock  of  hair  will  look  exactly  like  another, 
unless  the  memory  of  the  artist  has  record- 
ed the  different  appearance  of  the  short 
hair  on  the  forehead  and  crown  and  the 
long  back-hair,  in  which  case  there  will  be 
two  li air-forms  in  use.  Inevitably,  tlien. 
certain  set  forms  or  schemata  will  l)e 
employed  for  the  various  parts — for  head 
and  face,  with  hair.  eyes,  nose,  and  mouth ; 
for  fingers,  navel,  chest,  ribs,  and  so  on. 

How  will  primitive  art  advance,  how  will 
it  improve  upon  this  initial  stage?  Not  by 
discarding  these  memor^^-images  and  sche- 
matic forms,  but  by  perfecting  them  so 
that  they  are  more  faithful  to  actual 
appearances,  and  by  adding  supplementary 
schemata  for  details  which  have  been  over- 


.\  X  D     M  OX  0  0  R  A  PH  S 


132 


ESTHETIC     BASIS 


looked  and  therefore  omitted.  At  each 
repetition  of  the  standard  theme  of  the 
erect  nude  male  in  early  Greek  sculpture 
you  may  notice  some  trivial  improvement 
of  the  old  or  addition  of  the  hitherto  unob- 
served and  new.  But.  however  much  this 
progress  is  continued,  there  cannot  be 
more  than  a  specious  approximation  to  the 
photographically  true  and  exact.  Between 
the  eye  which  sees  and  the  hand  which 
gives  back  the  seen,  there  intervenes  a 
something  which  never  lies  between  the 
camera  lens  and  the  photographic  plate: 
I  mean  the  mind,  to  which  the  eye  reports 
and  from  which  the  hand  takes  its  instruc- 
tion. 

It  is  the  charm  of  archaic  art  that  it 
transmutes  the  vagaries  of  the  external 
shapes  of  our  ordinary  world  into  the 
almost  intellectual  precision  of  these  men- 
tal constructions  and.  by  lavishing  a  most 
effective  diligence  on  the  perfect  execution 
of  each  part,  makes  only  the  more  apparent 
the  mental  conversion  through  which  the 
natural  appearances  have  been  made  to 
pass.     The  more  it  labors  for  perfection, 


BRYN     MAWR     NOTES 


OF    GREEK    ART 


the  more  clearly  it  calls  attention  to  its 
departures  from  objective  truth,  because 
archaic  art  can  only  repeat  the  generalised 
form  (however  minutely  and  succinctly) 
while  Nature  never  shows  this  underlying 
type,  but  only  the  thousand  and  one  indi- 
vidual variations  of  it. 

Little  by  little  this  secret  dawns  upon  the 
generations  of  artists.  They  discover  that 
truth  to  Nature  lies  not  in  set  repetition 
but  in  indefinite  variation.  The  great 
problem  (and  the  profound  verity)  of  "the 
One  and  the  Many"  lifts  upon  their  hori- 
zon. The  fonn  is  one,  but  its  manifested 
appearances  are  many.  There  is  one  form 
for  the  oak-leaf,  another  for  the  cypress; 
but  when  Nature  makes  an  oak-tree,  she 
does  not  hang  it  with  a  thousand  identical 
leaves.  Every  leaf  is  different;  yet  every 
leaf  exhibits  the  same  form,  which  is  the 
form  for  oak-leaves.  In  sculpture,  the 
schematic  designs  for  hair  and  for  drapery- 
folds  are  retained  as  the  basic  structure 
from  which  every  wisp  of  hair,  every  fold 
of  drapery,  is  allowed  to  depart  by  a  slight 
amount. 


133 


(2)  transi- 
tional 
period 


AND     MONOGRAPHS 


134 


ESTHETIC     BAvSIS 


This  is  the  period  of  transition  from 
archaism  to  freedom,  and  the  sculpture 
which  it  produces  shows  a  restrained  and 
quietly  severe  beauty,  as  free  from  the 
affectations  of  merely  decorative  ornament 
as  from  the  inconseqxient  lines  and  inten- 
tionless  diversity  of  naturalistic  imitation. 
In  Greece  this  phase  ocaipied  roughly  the 
first  half  of  the  fifth  century  B.C. 

Because  fifth  century  Greek  sculpture 
inherited  all  the  schematic  forms  for  repre- 
senting objects,  it  could  not  be  true  to  life. 
At  the  time  of  Pheidias  and  Polykleitos, 
the  sculptured  human  body  was  put 
together  from  a  series  of  parts  each  of  which 
had  a  more  or  less  intellectualised  shape  or 
structure,  and  each  of  which  had  a  conse- 
quent bias  toward  geometric  formalism 
and  geometric  simplification.  The  idealism, 
the  ''classic  restraint,"  the  omission  of  non- 
essentials, which  are  so  generally  acclaimed 
to  be  an  outstanding  mark  of  Greek  sculp- 
ture, thus  had  their  origin.  Canova  and 
Thorwaldsen  and  other  neo-classicists 
worked  by  elimination,  by  deliberately  try- 
ing to  suppress  complete  natural  fidelity: 


B  R  Y  N     M  A  W  R     NOTES 


OF     GREEK     ART 


Polykleitos  was  still  adding  detail  upon 
detail  to  his  heritage  and  was  striving  to 
give  to  his  inherited  forms  that  freshness 
and  vigour  which  only  the  desire  to  copy 
Nature  can  impart.  They  were  going  in 
opposite  directions,  the  old  Greeks  and  the 
modern  neo-Greeks;  and  since  we  must 
judge  them  by  their  aims  and  ideals,  we 
must  allow  that  they  are  poles  asunder  in 
what  they  managed  to  accomplish. 

The  most  lucid  commentary  on  the  art 
of  Polykleitos  is  to  be  found  in  the  lyric 
poetry  of  Bacchylides  and  the  dramatic 
poetry  of  Sophocles.  Both  these  masters 
worked  with  forms  inherited  out  of  the 
archaic  period  of  their  art;  and  both  found 
their  highest  artistic  opportunity  in  that 
minute  and  subtle  modulation  of  the  un- 
realities of  formalism  which  would  approxi- 
mate more  closely  the  real  world  about 
which  (after  all)  they  were  writing.  This, 
as  far  as  I  can  understand  it,  is  the  typical 
mid-fifth -century  mentality.  It  is  only 
possible  in  a  period  where  the  public  is 
familiar  with  all  the  artistic  forms  and  con- 
ventions with  which  early  art  is  trammeled, 


AND     MONOGRAPHS 


136 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


and  so  can  appreciate  the  minute  temper- 
ings  of  those  forms  by  which  the  masters 
get  their  effects.  On  this  condition 
depends  the  true  Sophoclean  "irony,"  And 
only  if  we  bear  this  condition  in  mind,  can 
we  appreciate  the  full  force  of  the  saying 
attributed  to  Polykleitos  by  Plutarch — 
'Tolykleitos  the  sculptor  said  that  the  work 
was  most  difficult  when  the  clay  was  on  the 
nail."*^  However  we  may  explain  the 
exact  meaning  of  the  phrase  ^y  ow^t  (ad 
unguinem)  it  is  clear  that  Polykleitos  was 
referring  to  the  unportance  of  minutiae 
for  the  effect  of  the  whole.  Modern  critics 
have  often  sighed  enviously  at  the  mar- 
vellous finesse  of  appreciation  which  they 
ascribe  to  the  ancient  Athenian  audiences 
which  sat  in  the  Theatre  of  Dionysos.  But 
this  audience  was  able  to  appreciate 
Sophocles  because  they  had  grown  up  in  a 
knowledge  of  the  forms  and  conventions 
by  minute  deviation  from  which  the 
Sophoclean  drama  gets  all  its  tang  and 
subtlety.  It  takes  a  similar  training  to 
appreciate  Polykleitos. 


BRYN     MAWR     NOTES 


OF     GREEK    ART 


137 


We  said  that  in  the  time  of  Polykleitos 
the  sculptured  human  body  was  put    to- 
gether from  a  series  of  parts  each  of  which 
had  a  more  or  less  intellectualised  or  geo- 
metricised  shape   and   structure.     Out  of 
these  the  sculptor  put  his  figure  together 
somewhat    as   the  architect  built  up  his 
Orders  out  of  their  component  members. 
Now  in  architecture  it  was  patent   that 
the  relative  shapes  and  sizes  of  these  mem- 
bers determined  the  fitness  and  Tightness 
of  the  whole  Order.    Since  the  parts  of  an 
architectural  Order  are  man-devised  and 
not  copied  to   imitate  living  things,  the 
architect  can  determine  their  sizes  to  suit 
himself  or  rather   to  suit  those  peculiar 
demands  of  fitness  and  rightness.     But  if 
fitness    and   rightness    are   a   function   of 
relative  shapes  and  sizes,   they  must  be 
produced  by  ratios,  by  number.    Number, 
at  work  in  all  the  elements,  engenders  the 
perfection  which  is  their  beauty. 

There  was,  in  the  fifth  century,  an 
obvious  parallel  between  the  architectural 
Order  and  the  sculptural  Order  of  the 
human  statue.    This,  too,  was  put  together 


Intellectual 
mysticism 
peculiar  to 
this  period 


AND  MONOGRAPHS 


138 


ESTHETIC     BASIS 


out  of  parts  each  of  a  standard  shape.  Here, 
loo,  the  fitness  and  rightness  of  the  whole 
somehow  depended  on  the  relative  sizes  of 
Lhese  parts.  What  more  natural  than  to 
draw  the  same  conclusion  and  believe  that 
Number  here  too  was  sovereign?  Number 
is  certainly  sovereign  in  Nature  to  a  most 
amazing  extent  (far  more  than  we  ordi- 
narily dream,  until  we  pick  up  a  pamphlet 
on  phyllotaxis  or  shell-formation  or  pro- 
portional growth),  and  the  Greek  may  well 
have  known  this,  especially  as  the  Pytha- 
goreans seem  to  have  taught  specifically 
such  a  doctrine.  In  any  case  there  is  little 
doubt  that  Number  was  introduced  into 
sculpture  as  it  had  been  into  architecture 
and,  probably,  into  the  vase  shapes  of 
pottery." 

The  locus  classic  us  is  in   Galen,   where 
t]ic  following  passage  occurs: 

Chrysippos  holds  beauty  to  consist 
in  the  proportions  not  of  the  elements 
l)ut  of  the  parts,  that  is  to  say,  of  finger 
to  finger  and  of  all  the  fingers  to  the  palm 
and  wrist,  and  of  these  to  the  forearm. 


BRYN     MAWR     NOTES 


O  F     G  R  !■  !-:  K     A  R  T 

139 

and  of  the  forearm  to  the  upper  arm,  and 
of  all  the  parts  to  each  other,  as  they  are 
set  forth  in  the  Canon  of  Polykleitos.^ 

Here  we  ha\e  a  clear  statement,  from  a 
somewhat  late  and  round-about  source,  but 
expressed  in  just  the  language  we  should 
have  anticipated.  Commensurability  of 
parts  {(TvfXfX€TpLa)  is  the  working  of  Number 
in  sculpture  and  the  earnest  of  its  perfec- 
tion. There  is  an  almost  metaphysical 
belief  that  beauty  and  the  ide<al  type  for 
sculptural  representation  are  characterised 
by  an  almost  supersensual.  because  intel- 
lectual and  mathematical,  structure. 

This  is  not  a  unique  or  unusual  turn  for 
the  artistic  mind  to  take.  It  is  not  uncom- 
mon for  artists  to  seek  refuge  in  formulae 
and  to  look  for  a  sanction  for  sensuous  artis- 
tic beauty  in  canons  and  pseudo-scientific 
abstractions.  For  example,  in  a  period 
when  geometric  science  and  art  were  both 
in  renascence,  All^recht  Diirer  of  Niirnberg 
was  obsessed  to  discover  the  underlying 
geometric  and  numerical  necessity  in  the 
beauty  of  the  human  fonn,  and  he  succeed- 

A  N  D     M  0  N  0  G  R  A  P  H  S 

I 

140 


ESTHETIC    BASIvS 


ed  in  producing  a  canon  of  perfection  which 
was  very  full  of  Number.  But  he  came  to 
see  that  this  canon  was  a  standard  from 
which  to  deviate,  not  a  standard  toward 
which  to  strive.  This  is  just  what  we  learn 
when  we  study  the  role  of  Number  in  the 
beauty  of  natural  objects  such  as  flowers, 
leaf-forms,  and  shell-forms.  The  beauty 
of  livincj  things  seems  to  involve  a  host  of 
minute  departures  from  an  underlying 
geometric  uniformity.  The  Canon  is  this 
underlying  uniformity,  the  eidos  of  Greek 
philosophic  speculation.  It  is  made  up  of 
many  numbers;  but  the  mere  literal  incor- 
poration of  these  numbers  in  an  artistic 
representation  will  fall  short  of  beauty 
l^ecause  it  will  show  only  the  mathematics 
and  not  the  living  thing.  This  seems  to  be 
the  meaning  which  Polykleitos  intended  to 
convey  when  he  said  that  the  work  was  most 
difficult  "when  the  clay  was  on  the  nail." 
T  venture  the  opinion  that  Polykleitos 
meant  that  it  was  not  hard  to  follow  the 
niherited  schematic  shapes  and  standard- 
ised proportions,  but  that  the  real  art  lay 
in  the  minute  departures  from  the  stand- 


BRYN     MAWR     NOTES 


OF     GREEK    ART 

141 

anl    norm,    which    converted    the   statue 
from  a  geometric  manikin  into  a  sculptural 
equivalent  for  living  reality.     It  was   in 
making  these  little  touches  that  the  clay- 
was  "on  the  nail." 

Accordingly,     when    we    take     actual 
measurements  of  these  fifth  century  canon- 
ic statues  or  their  replicas,  we  signally  fail 
to  detect  those  simple  arithmetical  ratios 
which  we  must  imagine  the  sculptors  to 
have  incorporated.    This  very  much  vexed 
and  discountenanced  an  earHer  generation 
of  archaeologists.    Yet  the  reason  is  not  far 
to  seek.    The  forms  of  architecture,  being 
man-devised    and    conventional,    owe    no 
resemblance  to   natural   objects,   so   that 
their  proportions  can  be  altered  to  suit 
man's  fancy  and  esthetic  sensibility;    but 
only  a  slight  alteration  in  the  relative  meas- 
urements of  the  human  organs  will  overstep 
the  limits  imposed  by  sculpture's  express 
aim  and  intention  of  representing  under 
plastic    form   types    of    actually   existent 
objects.     If  simple  numerical  ratios  were 
not  to  be  found  at  least  approximated  in 
Nature,  they  could  not  be  introduced  into 

A  N  D     MONOGRAPHS 

I 

142 

ESTHETIC    BASlvS 

sculpture,  because  sculpture  was  shuwing 
forth  the  general  type  implicit  in  individual 
appearances.    Just  as  in  architecture  many 
of  the  simpler  ratios  were  abandoned  for 
more  complex  ones  which  shoidd  be  more 
appropriate,  so  in  sculpture  (but  much  more 
rapidly)  artists  appreciated  the  necessity 
of  abandoning  strict  ratios  of  simple  integ- 
ral niunbers.     But  they  seem  still  to  have 
kept    them   as   an   unseen   but   operative 
frame-work  of  proportions.     Nature  and 
beauty  strove  for  these  ratios,  but  they 
were  not  attainable  in  earthly  products; 
therefore  the  artist  could  not  show  them; 
but  he  must  know  them,  and  use  them  for 
his  underlying  structure,  being  careful  to 
temper  them  in  the  interest  of  representa- 
tional truth.     The  iempcraliirae,  of  wdiich 
Vitruvius  speaks  as  imposed  on  architec- 
ture by  the   accidents  of  human  vision, 
occur   also  in   sculpture   where   they   are 
imposed  by  the  accidents  of  material  truth . 
This,  I  take  it.  is  what  Polykleitos  was 
talking  about  in  that  other  often-quoted 
and  nearly  always  misinterpreted  dictum'' — 
"He  said  that  the  employment  of  a  great 

1 

B  R  Y  N     M  A  W  R     NOTES 

OF     GREEK    ART 

143 

many  numbers  would  almost  engender  cor- 
rectness in  sculpture''  to  yap  tv  irapa 
IJ.iKpov   8ia   TToXXwv   dpidfxwv   ^<f)r]  ytyvtcrOai. 

The  sling  is  in  Tra^ja  p.iKpov.  13y  using 
an  elaborate  series  of  simple  ratios  it  is 
possible  to  build  up  the  coherent  structure 
of  an  ideal  figure  ;io  but  each  one  of  these 
measurements  must  then  be  tempered  a 
little  lest  the  surfaces  be  not  sufficiently 
true  to  natural  forms.  It  is  in  these  little 
shifts  and  changes  that  the  secret  of  beauty 
lies.  Without  them,  by  a  trifle  you  will 
fail  of  your  object;  you  will  ha\-e  to  €v — 
napa  fitKpov.  That  is  why  we  cannot 
rcco\er  the  exact  ratios  when  we  take 
measurements  of  Polykleitan  work;  but 
we  ought  to  get  those  ratios  irapa  fxiKpov. 

Ob\-iously  the  fifth  century  sculptor  did 
not  hold  that  he  was  merely  copying  such 
and  such  an  individual  human  being,  con- 
verting him  into  bronze  or  marble.  He  was 
constructing  on  the  Ijasis  of  natural  appear- 
ances a  series  of  surfaces  and  shapes  and 
Hnes  which  the  eye  could  contemplate  with 
satisfaction  and  the  mind  consider  with  ap- 
proval and  which  it  would  recognise  as  the 

which 
throws 
light  on  the 
true  nature 
of  Greek 
"idealism" 
in  sculpture 

AND     MONOGRAPHS 

T 

144 

ESTHETIC    BASIvS 

appropriate  perfection  in   fully  developed 
human   kind.     The    natural    appearances 
of  objects  must,  of  course,  be  followed  as 
a  corrective  for  all  extreme  departures  and 
as  a  starting-point  for  schematic  or  formal 
deductions;    but  there  was  no  thorough- 
going insistence  that  concrete  individual 
objects  must  be  reproduced  just  as  they 
looked  and  were.     The  statues  of  victors 
in  the  games  did  not  and  could  not  resemble 
those    victors    themselves.      Later    ages, 
struck  by  the  absence  of  portrait-like  qual- 
ities in  these  dedications,   invented  such 
idle  explanations  as  the  story,  which  Pliny 
gives  us,  that  only  an  athlete  who  had  won 
a  victory  for  the  third  time  could  dedicate 
a  statue  with  his  actual  form  and  features. 
Just  as  Pythios  embodied  his  idea  of  the 
true  form  of  an  Ionic  temple  in  the  Athena 
temple  at  Priene,  so  Polykleitos  embodied 
his  idea  of  the  true  form  of  the  nude  male 
in  his  canonic  Doryphoros.     Pliny  quotes 
Varro's  complaint  that  the  statues  of  Poly- 
kleitos were  too  much  alike,  paene  ad  iinum 
exemplum;  but  that  is  just  what  we  should 
expect  of  them,  and  the  complaint  is  no 

I 

BRYN     MAWR     NOTES 

OF     GREEK    ART 

145 

more  apposite  than  it  would  be  to  complain 
that  all  Doric  temples  are  alike. 

To    summarize:     the    "idealism,"    the 
"classic  restraint,"  the  "omission  of  non- 
essentials," so  characteristic  of  fifth  century 
Greek  sculpture,  are  all  traceable  to  the 
attempt   to   put   into   material   guise   an 
almost  metaphysical  abstraction,  a  type- 
form  which  should  satisfy  the  reason  in  its 
quest  of  perfection  and  through  the  senses 
lead    it    on    to    attain    the    supersensual. 
This   seemingly  unsculptural   and   unreal 
trend  originated  in  and  developed  out  of 
the  schematic  forms  of  archaic  art,  which  in 
turn  grew  out  of  psychological  accidents 
wholly  irrelevant  to  fifth  century  ideas. 
Here,  as  in  all  genetic  processes,  origin  and 
validity  must  be  kept  distinct.     To  the 
Polykleitan  age  the  individual  forms   of 
line  and  surface  were  not  memory-images, 
but  the  inherited  alphabet  of  the  sculptor's 
art,  with  which  he  was  to  spell  TO  KAAON 
or,  better,  'O  HAIS  KAAO^.      Although 
Nature  was  always   the    check    and    the 
corrective,  the  sculptor  was  not  aiming  at 
reproducing  her  chance  individual  appear- 

A  N  D     MONOGRAPHS 

I 

146 


ESTHETIC     BASIS 


ances.  He  did  not  imitate  ra  rvxij,  but 
Ttt  Kara  <i>vaiv.  His  statues  were  not 
intended  for  replicas  of  unusually  beautiful 
persons  in  unusually  attractive  attitudes. 
He  did  not  make  men  as  they  appeared, 
but,  in  the  deepest  philosophical  sense 
which  his  race  could  attach  to  the  words, 
men  as  they  were  in  their  essence. 

This  is  precisely  the  judgement  which  the 
greatest  of  the  later  sculptors,  Lysippos, 
passed  upon  his  predecessors,  if  we  are  to 
trust  PHny's  report— '"Vulgoque  dicchat  ab 
illis  factos  qualcs  csscnt  homines  a  sc  qiialcs 
vidcrcntiir  cssc;^^ — "He  often  said  that  they 
represented  men  as  they  really  are,  but  he 
as  they  appeared  to  be."  This  sentence 
(like  every  other  one  touching  ancient 
artistic  criticism)  has  been  consistently 
misunderstood.  It  has  been  imagined  that 
Lysippos  was  distinguishing  between  real- 
ism and  impressionism;  but  nothing  could 
be  more  wide  of  the  mark.  We  have  only 
to  look  at  fifth  century  sculpture  to  con- 
vince ourselves  that,  whatever  the  artists 
may  have  done,  what  they  signally  did  not 
do  was  to  represent  men  as  they  really  are 


B  R  Y  N     M  A  W  R     NOTES 


OF     GREEK    ART 

147 

in  Nature.    Pliny's  csseiil  i.s  Plato's  to)  ovtl 
6v  and  Aristotle's   to  tl  rjv  tlvj.i,  which  is 
not  in  the  least  like  artistic  realism  or  repre- 
sentational fidelity  to  natural  appearances; 
and  his  vidcrcntw  refers  to  to.  <f>atv6fx€va, 
which  is  the  very  thing  which  we  nowadays 
call  reality.     There  is  no  question  of  im- 
pressionism.    ^^Ad  veritatem  Lyslppum  ac 
Praxilelcn    access  isse    opiime    adfirmant,^' 
says  Quintilian;^-  and  that  ought  to  settle 
it. 

Let  us  consider  for  a  moment  what  sculp- 
tural impressionism  means.     In*  painting, 
the  incentive  to  impressionism  arises  out  of 
the  discrepancy  between  the  hypothetical 
distance  at  which  the  painted  objects  are 
supposed  to  exist  and  the  actual  distance 
from  our  eyes  at  which  they  occur  on  the 
canvas,  and  out  of  the  difficulty  of  suggest- 
ing luminosity   correctly.      If   we  merely 
paint  on  a  reduced  scale  all  the  details 
which  an  oljject  shows  on  close  inspection, 
the  modifications  of  jjerspective  will  not 
suffice  to  gi\e  us  the  illusion  of  seeing  that 
object  in  its  proper  setting  of  atmospheric 
distance.     We  must  paint,  on  the  camas 

A  N  D     M  O  N  0  G  R  A  P  H  S 

I 

148 


E  S  T  H  E  T  1  C     BASIS 


close  to  our  eyes,  the  look  of  that  object  at 
a  distance,  with  all  its  blurred  edges  and 
qualities  of  colour  and  light.  We  must 
paint  the  retinal  impression.  This  involves 
a  complicated  problem  of  colour  values 
which  will  suggest  these  effects  of  light, 
since  painting  cannot  reproduce  them 
directly,  but  must  evoke  them  by  an 
equivalent  construction  out  of  her  own  de- 
vising. Aiming  at  greater  fidelity  to  seen 
appearances,  painting  thus  ceases  to  fol- 
low the  materially  "correct"  outline  and 
colovuing  of  objects;  and  the  opposition 
between  realism  and  impressionism  can 
thus  arise.  But  in  sculpture,  where  the 
true  distances  are  accurately  given  and 
fidelity  to  colour  and  light  is  greatly  subor- 
dinated to  questions  of  surface-forms  and 
outlines,  impressionism  in  the  sense  just 
now  indicated  has  no  obvious  place  or 
meaning.  There  is,  however,  a  secondary 
sense  in  which  the  term  is  sometimes  used 
for  sculpture.  To  show  an  object  as  it 
appears  is  in  sculpture  to  vshow  it  as  it 
actually  is;  but  we  might  undertake  to 
represent  the  object  as  it  seems  to  someone 


B  R  Y  N     M  A  W  R     NOTES 


O  F     G  R  E  E  K     A  R  T 


149 


who  is  looking  hastily  or  casually  or  under 
emotional  stress  or  under  some  bias  of 
interest  or  judgement.  Thus  impressionism 
in  sculpture  comes  to  stand  for  something 
\'ery  much  like  emotional  expressionism. 
It  is  not  a  normal  "impression"  such  as  the 
laws  of  optics  and  physiology  would 
impose  upon  the  normal  seeing-eye;  it  is 
somebody  else's  impression,  in  the  sense  of 
a  mental  and  emotional  constniction  such 
as  under  proper  stimulation  we  might  be 
able  to  recreate  in  ourselves.  Of  all  this, 
wliat  is  there  in  the  work  of  Lysippos? 
A  free  use  of  massed  shadow  in  the  hair  is 
the  only  impressionism  that  I  can  find  ever 
ascribed  to  him;  and  the  testimony  of 
ancient  writers  and  of  extant  works  of  his 
school  and  period  point  wholly  the  other 
way.  When  Lysippos  said  that  he  made 
men  as  they  seemed  to  be,  he  was  saying 
that  he  made  them  just  as  they  actually 
looked.  It  was  Lysippos  who  was  the 
realist. 

"Ad   veriialem   Lysippum   ac  Praxitelen 

"    Can  this  be  true  of  Praxiteles? 

Critics  have  felt  themselves  at  a  loss  be- 


AND  MONOGRAPHS 


l.SO 


(4)  free 

period 


(5)  fine 
period,  pre- 
ceding the 
free  yieriod 


EST  li  E  TIC     BASIS 


cause  third  century  Alexandrian  art,  carr^--- 
ing  on  Athenian  traditions,  produced  ultra- 
Praxitelcan  work  and,  at  the  same  time. 
ultra-naturaHstic  genre.  But  there  is  no 
discrepancy  or  contradiction  here.  Instead 
of  relying  on  the  emotional  power  of  ab- 
stract pure  form,  the  Alexandrian  school 
turned  to  direct  pictorial  presentation.  In 
order  to  represent  ugly,  uncouth,  bizarre, 
or  ludicrous  subjects,  it  copied  these 
faithfully,  down  to  every  wrinkle  and 
deformity:  in  order  to  represent  beautiful 
subjects,  it  went  equally  far  in  the  literal 
imitation  of  soft-textured  skin,  smooth  and 
yielding  surface  forms,  without  edges  and 
with  veiled  lines.  It  is  simply  a  difference 
of  subject-matter;  the  literal  intent  and  the 
artistic  method  are  in  either  case  the  same. 
For  all  his  seeming  idealisation  of  beauty, 
Praxiteles  is  the  immediate  precursor  of  the 
Alexandrian  realists. 

When  the  schematic  form  disappears  as 
the  ideal  norm  of  reference,  intelligibly 
present  and  definable  in  every  instance  to 
which  that  form  applies,  when  instead  the 
artist    copies    the    actual    appearances    of 


B  R  Y  N     J\I  A  W  R    NOTES 


O  F     G  R  E  }l  K 


objects  without  deferring  to  a  mental  con- 
stntction  or  generic  prototype,  art  enters 
upon  its  highest  career  of  technical  achieve- 
ment. But  its  formal  content  is  inevitably 
diminished  and  obscured;  and  at  precisely 
this  point  in  its  career  spiritual  decadence 
sets  in.  In  Greece  this  turning  falls  in  the 
lifetime  of  Praxiteles  (as  in  the  sister  art  of 
dramatic  literature  it  falls  in  the  lifetimiC 
of  Euripides).  Lysippos  is  already  of  the 
decadence.  For  did  he  not  admit  that  his 
predecessors  imaged  men  as  they  were  in 
their  essence,  but  he  himself  merely  as  they 
appeared  (very  much  as  Sophocles  was  said 
to  have  shown  men  as  they  had  to  be; 
but  Euripides,  as  they  were). 

The  reason  why  the  decadence  begins  at 
the  very  moment  of  seemingly  greatest 
achievement  needs  no  elaboration  for  those 
who  have  followed  our  previous  discussions. 
The  true  artistic  aim  of  sculpture  has  prov- 
ed itself  not  to  be  this  ignis  fatuus  of  imita- 
tive dexterity  and  representational  fidelity. 
To  the  sole,  innermost,  yet  so  frequently 
obscured,  intention  of  the  art  as  an  art,  we 
have  already  directed  a  detailed  attention. 


151 


AND     MONOGRAPHS 


This  ends 
our  inquiry 
into  the 
relation 
between 
form  and 
content 


152 


and  our 
discussion 
of  Greek 
scvilpture 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


If  the  argument  for  the  true  nature  of  the 
esthetic  appeal  and  artistic  purpose  of 
sculpture  be  recalled,  it  will  be  obvious 
why,  as  estheticians,  w^e  must  agree  with 
the  frequent  opinion  that  the  Hellenistic 
Age,  however  much  it  may  mark  technical 
advance,  artistically  is  on  the  downward 
^lope.  ''Cessavit  deinde  arsy  says  Pliny 
for  the  period  after  296  B.C.,  and,  except 
that  we  might  be  inclined  to  set  the  year  a 
little  earHer,  we  can  hardly  fail  to  agree  with 
liis  pronouncement. 


BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 


OF    GREEK    ART 

153 

IV 

THE  ESTHETICS  OF  GREEK 
ARCHITECTURE 

I  MUST  presuppose  that  the  history  and 
achievements   of   Greek   architecture   are 
sufficiently  familiar  to  the  reader.    He  will 
Imow,  for  example,  that  the  dominant  form 
or  theme  is  the  colonnaded  temple;    that 
this    is    built    with    wall,    colunm,    and 
horizontal  beam;    and  that  the  structural 
elements  are  the  square-hewn,  close-fitting, 
mortarless  ashlar  block,  and  the  various 
members  of  two  distinct  and  characteristic 
"Orders,"  the  Doric  and  the  Ionic,  to  the 
latter  of  which  is  allied  a  sub-Order,  the 
Corinthian,  scarcely  differing  from  the  Ionic 
save  in  the  form  of  its  capital.      He  will 
know, further,  that  there  are  temple  remains 
dating  from   the  sixth  century  B.C.   and 
remarkable  for  their   vigour   and  simplic- 
ity; that  in  the  fifth  century  were  achieved 
the  refined  and  powerful  buildings  on  the 
Athenian   acropolis,    in    whichjthe    Doric 

Some 
general 

AND     MONOGRAPHS 

I 

154 


and  popular 
QOtions 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


Order  reached  its  formal  perfection  and  the 
Ionic  its  first  flowering  on  Attic  soil;  and 
that  in  the  two  succeeding  centuries  the 
Ionic  style  was  perfected  by  Pythios  and 
Hermogenes  and  their  respective  schools, 
on  the  west  shores  of  Asia  Minor  in  such 
notable  exemplars  as  the  Mausoleum,  the 
Athena  temple  at  Priene,  the  Artemis 
temples  at  Ephesos  and  at  Magnesia  on 
the  Meander,  and  the  long-travailled  but 
never-completed  giant  temple  of  Didymean 
Apollo. 

1 1  must  also  assume  that  most  of  the  tech- 
nical vocabulary  of  the  architect  will  con- 
vey its  legitimate  meaning  to  the  reader, 
and  that  he  has  already  noticed  the  obvious 
and  salient  virtues  or  limitations  of  the 
Greek  style. 

Thus  he  will  know  that  it  is  a  current  pre- 
cept that  Greek  buildings  always  express 
their  purpose  and  the  mechanics  of  their 
construction.  A  temple-plan  is  self-explan- 
atory; its  elevation  never  misleads  us  with 
any  pretence  or  disguise.  The  entablature 
is  not  carved  or  moulded  to  produce  a 
merely  decorative  fagade:  the  epistyle  has 


BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 


OF     GREEK    ART 


155 


horizontal  stressings  to  show  its  function; 
we  may  guess  that  ceiling  beams  bed  behind 
the  frieze;  the  cornice  is  unashamedly  a 
water-shed ;  the  pediment  occurs  of  neces- 
sity because  a  sloping  roof  can  end  in  no 
simpler  or  more  obvious  manner.  The 
akroteria  are  the  only  structiu-al  non- 
essentials— and  I  am  not  altogether  sure 
that  these  may  not  have  been  survivals  of 
weights  to  hold  down  the  roof,  like  the 
stones  on  Swiss  chalets,  or  the  interlacing 
of  rafters. 

We  can  scarcely  acquit  the  Greek  archi 
tects  of  having  followed  a  third  popular 
modern  precept  by  making  their  architec- 
ture express  its  material,  since  they  not 
merely  painted  their  marble,  but  in  the 
members  of  the  two  Orders  carved  forms 
(such  as  triglyphs,  dentils,  guttae,  regulae) 
which  were  clearly  survivals  of  some  tim- 
ber construction.  Yet  they  exploited  the 
good  quahties  of  their  building  material, 
by  giving  their  marble  walls  that  lustrous 
finish  which  still  endures  upon  them,  and 
by  carving  designs  whose  sharpness  of  line 
and  shadow-free  shallows  emphasised  those 


AND  ^MONOGRAPHS 


concerning 
Greek 
architec- 
ture 


156 

ESTHETIC     BASIS 

beauties  which  reside  more  in  fine  marble 
than  in  any  other  stone.     On  the  other 
hand,  they  could  not  tolerate  rustication  or 
ruggedness   (except  for  fortification  walls 
and  similar  uses)  but  covered  their  coarser 
materials  with  a  stucco  of  powdered  marble 
which  effectively  gave  the  lie  to  its  native 
qualities.      That   they   sheathed   exposed 
timber  with  terracotta  or  bronze  cannot  be 
instanced  against  them,  since  it  was  done 
not  so  much  to  disguise  the  material  as  to 
protect  and  preserve  the  wood. 

There  is  a  fourth  precept  to  which  good 
architecture  is  generally  supposed  to  con- 
form.   It  must  express  (it  is  said)  the  men- 
tality and  civilisation  of  its  builders — as 
though  whatever  man  consciously  makes 
could  fail  to  be  eloquent  of  himself!  Even 
a  Moorish  tower  upon  a  Renaissance  palace 
built  for  the  servants'  hall  of  an  American 
millionaire's  country-place  is  eloquent  of 
its  age  and  culture.    Eclecticism  is  as  much 
a  style  as  any  other— and  as  significant  of 
its  attendant  civilisation.      The  sky-line 
of  Fifth  Avenue  is  very  eloquent  of  the  per- 
turbed and  composite  culture  that  made  it 

I 

BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 

OF     GREEK    ART 

157 

and  enjoys  it.    But  it  is  intended  to  assert 
by  this  particular  precept,  that  the  spirit- 
ual qualities  of  an  age  should  somehow*  be 
deducible  from  the  buildings  which  it  pro- 
duces; and  it  is  clearly  true  of  Greek  archi- 
tecture that  it  is  ordered  and  logical,  that 
it  harmonises  part  with  part,  and  parts 
with  whole,  and  that,  to  a  most  remarkable 
degree,  it  is  unfantastic  and,  in  all  its  ele- 
ments and  proportions,  always  implies  a 
human  use  or  service,  and  a  mortal  eye 
and  a  rational  mind  to  observe  and  approve 
it. 

There  are  no  structural  irrelevancies  in 
Greek  building,  such  as  columns  which  are 
not  the  true  supports  of  their  superstruc- 
tures, or  fayades  which  merely  mask  the 
disparate    structure    behind    them.      But 
though  there  are  no  stnictural  irrelevan- 
cies, neither  is  there  much  structural  inven- 
tiveness or  ambition.    The  Greek  temple  is, 
in  its  intent,  a  one-story  afTair.    The  super- 
posed colonnades  in  its  interior  were  forced 
on  the  builder  by  the  physical  necessity  of 
supporting  the  roofbeams  and  the  esthetic 
impossibility  of  doing  so  by  means  of  a 

Lim.itatioii? 
of  Greek 
architec- 
tural 
achieve- 
ment 

AND     MONOGRAPHS 

I 

158 

esthp:tic   basis 

single  story  of  columns  (since  these  would 
have  to  be  taller  and  so  more  massive  than 
those  of  the  exterior  order).     The  two- 
story  colonnade  with  ground-floor  and  gal- 
lery, thus  produced,  was  often  employed 
to  line  market-places  and  open  squares, 
but  seems  not  to  have   incited    builders 
to  attempt  a  third  or  a  fourth  stage  of 
columns.       The    tower-like    superposition 
of  the   orders   was    reserved    for    Roman 
fayades  and   the  restless   Renaissance   to 
achieve.    The  stoa,   thus  limited  by  cus- 
tom to  two  stages,  was  further  restrained 
in    its    height    by    the    characteristically 
Greek  consideration  that  a  column  more 
than  12  feet  high  would  seem  out  of  pro- 
portion to  the  human  beings  for  whose 
service  and  convenience  it  was  intended. 
Here,  as  so  often  in  things  Greek,  it  seemed 
iravT   avSpa    TrdvTo)v   )(pr)/xd.TU)v  fxixfiov  emu. 
The    temples,    being    houses    of    gods   or 
at  least  of  their  images,  were  not   cribbed 
and  cabined  by  these  demands  of  human 
proportion:  their  single  story  of  columns 
(you  would  imagine)   could  swell  to  any 
height.       But    here    another    proportion 

r 

B  R  Y  N     M  A  W  R     NOTES 

OF     GREEK    ART 


stepped  in  to  check  their  rise  toward 
the  colossal:  the  distance  from  column  to 
column  always  bore  some  sort  of  estab- 
lished relation  to  the  height  of  the  shafts, 
and  coliimns  could  not  be  too  widely 
spaced  lest  they  could  no  longer  be  safely 
bridged  with  horizontal  beams  of  stone. 
The  Greeks  were  timid  engineers:^  a  15- 
foot  air-span  gave  them  pause,  and  the 
lintel  of  Diana's  temple  at  Ephesos  was  a 
gigantic  achievement.  And  so  when  they 
strove  toward  the  colossal  in  height,  their 
columns  were  allowed  but  barely  sixty  feet.- 
Except  for  such  exceptional  forms  as  the 
hghthouse  of  Alexandria  and  the  Mauso- 
leum of  Halicamassos,  how  many  Greek 
buildings  (like  the  Zeus  temple  at  Girgenti) 
overpassed  a  height  of  one  hundred  feet? 
The  theatres,  to  be  sure,  stretched  up  till 
their  tppmost  rows  might  be  more  than  this 
distance  above  the  dancers'  circle;  but  the 
seats  were  all  bedded  safely  on  the  sloping 
hillside.  For  the  Greeks  before  the  Roman 
era,  no  hillside — no  theatre.  Nothing  is 
more  surprising  than  to  sketch  the  eleva- 
tion of  one  of  the  great  French  Gothic 


AND     MONOGRAPHS 


160 

ESTHETIC    BASIS 

cathedrals  and  to  the  same  scale  superpose 
upon  it  the  facade  of  any  of  the  greater 
Greek  temples.   Where  the  two  buildings 
chance  to  agree  in  width,  as  do  the  Parthe- 
non and  the  cathedral  of  Chartres,  it  is  all 
the  more  astonishing  to  see  the  Gothic 
pushing    its    nave    to    twice    the    Greek 
temple's  height  before  ever  it  begins  to 
stretch  its  towers  and  spires  toward  the 
sky. 

Nor  were  plans  varied  or  complex    or 
ambitious/''     The   temple   was   the   god's 
house  and  the  depository  for  his  posses- 
sions.   What  then  should  a  god  do  with 
more  than  two  rooms?     When  the  cult- 
statue  was  housed  and  the  dedications  and 
sacred  treasures  were  safely  sheltered,  noth- 
ing remained  to  do.    A  surrounding  colon- 
nade to  accommodate  the  god's  worship- 
pers, perhaps;    but  nothing  more.     The 
altar,  if  only  because  of  its  smoke  and  fire, 
was  in  the  open  air  and  escaped  housing. 
A  peribolos  wall,  marking  out  the  god's 
acreage,    often    shut    in    indiscriminately 
temple,  altar,  and  ex  voio  dedications.   The 
Greek  architect  had  no  idea  of  the  myster- 

I 

BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 

OF     GREEK    ART 

161 

ious  in  setting  or  approacli :   a  few  chthon- 
ian  shrines  in  caverns  is  all  that  can  be 
cited.     Nor  did  it  occur  to  him  that  his 
god  might  house,  dark  and  inaccessible, 
beyond    great    walls    and     many    rooms, 
approached  through  courtyard  and  hall- 
way and  stair,  as  the  gods  of  the  Pharaohs 
lived  in  the  penetralia  of  Kamak  or  Luqsor. 
Nor  were  there  kings  to  dwell  in  magnifi- 
cent palaces.    Even  a  sixth  century  tyrant 
was  a  man  among  men.    Peisitratos  might 
take  the  Acropolis  for  his  house, and  Diony- 
sios  might  have   his   dwelling  on  Ortygia; 
but    these   were   fortresses,    not    palaces. 
Even  the  princes  of  Hellenistic  Pcrgamon 
have  only  a  paltry  bit  of  the  great  liillslopc 
for  their  private  places.     The  "palace"  of 
Pericles?    There  was  none.    And  the  great 
fifth  century  Athens,  which  was  responsi- 
ble for  the  masterpieces  of  the  Acropolis, 
was   only   a   ttoAis     KaKws     eppvfioTOfxrjixivri 
of  small  mud-brick   liouscs   and   crooked 
narrow  streets.     The  greatness  of  Greek 
architecture  is  certainly  not  domestic,  but 
lies  in  temples  and  public  buildings  of  the 
polis.    Yet  how  monotonous  are  the  plans 

AND     IM  0  N  0  G  R  A  P  H  S 

1 

162 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


of  the  Greek  temples!  and  although  their 
settings  are  often  wonderful — on  the  windy 
sunrise  cape  of  Sunium,  among  the  waste 
grey  folds  of  Arcadian  Bassae,  under  the 
shining  frown  of  the  Delphic  cliffs — how 
much  reliance  is  placed  on  Nature  and  how- 
little  does  Art  contribute!  Delphi  is  as 
idly  and  irrelevantly  marshalled  as  the 
accretions  of  a  cemetery;  Delos  is  an  archi- 
tectural pepperpot;  Olympia  is  unconsid- 
ered and  fortuitous;  the  Athenian  acro- 
polis, a  crown  of  splendour  upon  a  head 
of  tangled  hair— owes  much  of  its 
effectiveness  to  the  lofty,  clear-shining 
aloofness  of  its  site.  Neither  in  the 
planning  of  the  individual  building  nor  in 
its  relation  to  other  buildings  does  the 
Greek  architect  show  invention  or  artis- 
tic imagination.  I  do  not  feel  confident 
that  he  even  considered  this  latter 
relation  until  the  fourth  century:  the 
symmetry  a  pen  pres  in  the  arrangement  of 
the  buildings  on  the  Acropolis  may  be  very 
subtle — or  very  haphazard. 

Mnesicles'  unfulfilled  design  for  the  Pro- 
pylaea,  the  town-plan  of  Halicarnassos  and 


BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 


OF     GREEK    ART 


perhaps  Rhodes,  the  carven  giants  against 
the  gigantic  masses  of  the  Zeus  temple  of 
Akragas,  the  Erechtheum  plan  with  its 
imperfect  reaching-out  toward  a  freer 
form^ — a  list  of  six  or  seven  such  items  seems 
to  exhaust  the  instances  of  original  and 
powerful  departures  from  the  lucid  but 
easy  perfection  of  an  established  tradition. 
Two  "Orders"  and  a  variant— only  that  to 
show  for  the  activity  of  centuries!  Two 
entablatures  and  three  kinds  of  capital — is 
that  fecundity?  is  that  inspiration?  Is  it 
then  so  hard  for  the  human  brain  to  invent, 
so  impossible  for  it  to  create,  that  one  of  the 
most  intelligent  and  esthetically  most  sen- 
sitive of  races  should  have  only  this  to 
show?  They  are  very  fine  of  their  kind, 
these  Orders  and  these  temple-,  colonnade-, 
tholos-,  and  theatre-forms;  but  under  what 
limitations  and  abnegation  of  originality 
was  their  perfection  wrought  I  And  how 
could  so  many  generations  of  active  archi- 
tects remain  content  to  copy  and  re-copy 
from  the  same  meagre  repertory,  as  though 
there  were  no  other  way  to  build,  no  other 
plans  or  forms,  nor  even  any  other  mould- 


AND     MONOGRAPH  vS 


163 


An  archi- 
tecture of 
fixed  and 
conven- 
tionally 
established 
forms. 
Why? 


164 

ESTHETIC    BASIS 

ings  to  be  imagined,  and  as  though  to  aUer 
a  proportion  or  to  refine  a  subsidiary  out- 
Hne   were   achievement    enough    for    any 
master? 

How  can  we  explain  such    absence  of 
individual  invention  and  artistic  variety? 
Only  by  referring  it  to  a  deep-seated  prej- 
udice of  the  Greek  mind.     To  explain  this, 
there  will  be  need  of  a  short  digression. 

I 

B  R  Y  N     M  A  W  R     NOTES 

OF    GREEK    ART 


Under  the  perspective  of  time,  the  dis- 
putes of  philosophic  schools  are  apt  to 
take  on  an  appearance  of  fundamental 
irrelevancy.  The  real  issues  are  usually 
taken  for  granted  because  they  house  so 
deep  in  the  general  prejudices  and  presup- 
positions of  the  times.  Aristotle  pulled  the 
Platonic  Theory  of  Ideas  to  pieces,  only  to 
assert  a  very  similar  doctrine  of  forms  in 
its  place.  From  this  it  is  fair  to  conclude 
that  the  assumption  of  visual  prototypes 
for  the  various  kinds  or  species  of  existent 
objects — to  believe,  for  example,  that  the 
abstract  concept  ''mouse"  implies  an  actual 
mouse-form  iniivcrsally  inherent  in  all 
mice  and  controlling  their  shape  and  ap- 
pearance— came  naturally  and  as  it  were 
necessarily  to  the  Greek  mind.  Modern 
scholars  tend  to  assume  that  the  Greek 
philosophers  derived  these  'Torms"  out 
of  the  logical  concept  and  out  of  the  lin- 
guistic necessity  of  using  a  single  word  to 
name  all  the  objects  of  a  given  class  (as 
when  we  call  all  mice  by  the  same  word 


A  N  D     M  O  N  0  G  R  A  P  H  S 


165 


The  Theory 
of  "Ideas" 
or  Canonic 
Forms 


166 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


''mouse'').  They  look  on  them  as  a  direct 
outcome  of  the  behaviour  of  human  thought 
and  the  analysis  of  human  speech.  But  in 
addition  to  all  this,  the  Greek  philosophy 
unplies  a  trick  of  visualising,  of  appre- 
hending the  characteristic  vshape  and  line 
by  virtue  of  which  all  mice,  for  example, 
look  sufficiently  alike  to  be  recognisable 
instances  of  their  species.  For  the  Greek 
mind  there  was  always  a  concrete  visual 
image  somehow  attached  to  the  abstract 
universal  concept.  We  ourselves  use  such 
words  as  "concept,"  "abstract  term,"  and 
similar  expressions  which  do  not  have  any 
very  clear  metaphorical  content;  but  Plato 
talked  of  IhiaL  (things  iSetv  to  see)  or  of  etSr/, 
which  again  are  things  seen;  even  the 
ordinary  Greek  word  for  "knowing"  (oiSa) 
had  in  it  this  same  root  of  "looking"  or 
"seeing."  And  most  of  the  logical  pitfalls 
by  which  the  Platonic  Theory  of  Ideas  was 
beset  are  due  to  the  concrete  hard-and-fast 
visible  quality  (and  therefore  existence)  of 
which  the  etSr]  could  not  divest  themselves. 
Reference  has  often  been  made  to  the 
peculiar  qualities  of  light  and  atmosphere 


BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 


OF    GREEK    ART 


167 


in  Greek  lands,  to  that  clearness  which 
robs  distance  of  its  atmospheric  mantle  and 
that  luminosity  which  deprives  shadows  of 
their  power  of  plastic  illusion,  so  that  the 
eye  sees  in  terms  of  contours  bounding  flat 
surfaces,  and  the  brain  remembers  in  terms 
of  simple  visual  forms,  of  areas  with  sharp 
outlines   and   consequently   very   definite 
shapes.      If  we  remember,  too,  that  the 
Greek   intellectuality    (partly   because   of 
this  extreme  atmospheric  lucidity  under 
which  the  world  of  sense  was  presented  to 
it?)  was  not  ''cloudy-minded"  and  ''un- 
earthly," but  markedly  observant  of  the 
external  world  and  analytic  of  its  phenom- 
ena, it  will  seem  natural  that  such  a  race, 
highly  intellectualised  in  the  direction  of 
observation  and  analysis,  and  immersed  in 
a  sense-world  of  highly  accentuated  out- 
lines  but   rather   diminished   tactile   and 
plastic  values,  should  imagine  its  concepts 
as  visual  linear  forms.     Not  the  mass,  not 
the  material  constitution,  not  the  physical 
behaviour,  but  the  seen  appearance,  was  for 
them  the  essential.    To  know  what  a  thing 
is,  they  must  know  the  look  of  it.     The 


its  in- 
fluence 
in  art 


AND  MONOGRAPHS 


168 


ESTHETIC     BASIS 


material  might  be  comparatively  irrelevant, 
since  objects  can  be  of  different  substance 
and  yet  have  the  same  look;  and  matter 
changes  so  illusively  (as  when  food  turns 
into  flesh  and  blood),  while  the  form  is 
abiding  and  amenable  to  the  understanding. 
The  matter  of  a  man  may  suffer  all  manner 
of  metabolism,  but  the  form  undergoes  no 
such  change;  if  annihilated  in  one  indi- 
vidual by  death  or  altered  l^y  mutilation, 
it  reappears  unchanged  and  undiminished 
in  others  of  the  species.  Surely,  if  the 
Greek  mind  had  not,  instinctively  as  well 
as  consciously,  thus  regarded  the  world  of 
objects  as  a  series  of  typical  forms  dis- 
played and  embodied  in  individual  in- 
stances, Plato  could  never  have  imagined 
his  theory  of  visual-forms  or  found  an 
audience  to  which  to  expound  it. 

The  objects  which  man  makes — his  im- 
plements, his  places  of  shelter,  his  fur- 
niture— these  too  come  ranged  in  species, 
and  each  species  has  its  characteristic 
form  whose  specific  shape  and  appearance 
depend  largely  on  the  ])urpo.se  or  use  of  the 
object  in  question.     The  shape  of  a  mirror 


BRYN     MAWR     NOTES 


OF     GREEK    ART 


is  not  arbitrary:  its  purpose  implies  that 
it  should  be  the  shape  of  the  human  face, 
its  use  suggests  that  it  vshould  have  a 
handle  ])y  which  it  can  be  grasped  and 
which  will  also  serve  it  as  a  stand,  for 
which  purpose  the  handle  should  have  a 
stable  base.  Thus  defined,  the  necessary^ 
shape  and  appearance  of  a  mirror  lie  within 
rather  narrow  limits;  but  among  the  vari- 
ous shapes  which  would  satisfy  the  fore- 
going requirements,  are  not  some  more 
"necessary"  than  others?  Is  not  the 
circle  the  necessary  prototype  of  all  face- 
shapes?  For  the  handle  and  stand,  will  not 
certain  relationships  in  the  measurements 
and  outline  recommend  themselves  by  the 
simplicity  or  coherence  of  their  mathe- 
matical and  logical  properties,  so  that  they 
will  seem  more  nearly  ''right"?  And  do 
we  not  end  with  a  conviction  that  even  to 
such  a  man-devised  thing  as  a  hand- 
mirror  there  is  a  single  fitting  and  perfect 
form  which  man  can  discover  by  exper 
ment  and  thought?  There  is  something  of 
the  eternal  and  supermortal  about  a  form 
which  is  thus  attained;  it  seems  as  though 


AND  MONOGRAPHS 


170 

ESTHETIC    BASIS 

(like  the  truths  of  mathematias  or  logic)  it 
must  all  the  while  have  been  in  existence, 
implicit  but  unidentified.     Almost  it  would 
appear  as  though  the  artist  himself  invents 
nothing:  he  merely  sees  more  clearly  than 
other  men  how  things  should  be.      The 
more  he  approximates  perfect  rightness  in 
the  forms  of  the  things  which  he  makes,  the 
more  nearly  he  has  learned  to  materialise 
what   the   Divine   Necessity  has   already 
constructed.  .  .  .      ''The  craftsman,  look- 
ing   toward    the    true  form,    so    fashions^' 
(6  87}fXLOvpyb<;   7rpo9  rrjv  iSmv  ySAeVcov   ovto) 
TTouP)  said   Plato   of  such   man-contrived 
things  as  couches  and  tables. 

How  then  does  the  artist's  activity  differ 
from  that  of  the  philosopher,  except  that 
one  gives  material  w^hile  the  other  gives 
verbal  expression  to  the  concepts  which  he 
discovers?       It    is    the    good    craftsman's 
business  to  seek  out  the  right  form,  which 
is  the  true  and  perfect  species-type  for  the 
kind  of  object  which  he  is  making.     (And 
perhaps  beauty  and  intellectual  fitness  will 
attend  his  discovery,  because  the  true  and 
primal  types  are  god-made.) 

I 

BRYN     xMAWR    NOTES 

OF     GREEK    xART 


In  Greek  pottery,  species  appear  and 
maintain  themselves  with  the  most  start- 
Hng  definiteness  of  shape.  Lekythos, 
pyxis,  aryballos.  hydria,  krater,  psykter, 
slcyphos,  ampliora,  IcylLx,  kantharos — how 
distinct  and  distinctive  they  all  are,  each 
form  rigorously  determined  by  a  consid- 
eration of  its  purpose  and  usefulness,  with 
its  own  secret  of  grace  of  line  and  harmony 
of  part!  One  comes  to  believe  in  their 
real  objective  existence  as  firmly  as  though 
they  were  genera  and  species  of  the  animal 
world  evolved  by  Nature.  One  can  detect 
this  same  spirit  in  all  the  creations  of  the 
Greek  genius:  clothes,  household  furni- 
ture, tableware,  all  fall  into  type-forms 
characterised  by  an  almost  logical  co- 
herence and  exactness. 

The  work  of  the  architect  will  reveal  a 
similar  trait.  If  he  plans  a  temple,  his 
most  conspicuous  artistic  duty  will  be  to 
consider  afresh  the  adequacy  and  rightness 
of  the  temple-form  as  his  predecessors  have 
sought  it  out  and  embodied  it.  What 
criteria  can  he  use  for  scmtinising  their 
success   or  failure?      (Jnlv   those   of  that 


AND     MONOGRAPHS 


171 


in  vase- 
making 


in  archi- 
tecture 


172 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


inner  necessity  by  which  a  form  is  recog- 
nised as  right  and  true.  Whatever  is  un- 
essential, whatever  is  not  necessary  to  the 
temple  for  its  purpose  or  stability  or  dura- 
bility, is  irrelevant  to  the  form;  it  is  not  a 
part  of  the  form,  it  is  not  a  part  of  the 
temple.  The  expense  and  labor  and  time 
incident  to  the  processes  of  building  con- 
spire to  encourage  the  architect  in  elim- 
inating the  superfluous.  How  then  could 
there  logically  be  different  temple-plans, 
when  there  is  only  one  purpose  for  which 
temples  are  used,  one  identical  force  of 
gravitation  to  combat  and  master,  one  rain 
and  sun  to  oppose?  There  should  only  be 
variety  insomuch  as  there  might  be  inade- 
quacy in  expressing,  or  incompleteness  in 
discovering,  the  true  and  right  form.  The 
Parthenon  is  not  a  different  building  from 
the  temple  of  Poseidon  at  Paestum:  it  is 
the  same  building  grown  closer  and  truer 
to  its  proper  and  perfect  semblance. 
Iktinos  invented  nothing:  he  merely  saw 
more  clearly  how  things  should  be. 

But  surely  individual  taste  must  enter 
in?  the  architect  must  arrange  and  vary 


BRYN     MAWR     NOTES 


OF     GREEK    ART 


details  to  siiit  himself  or  the  preference  of 
his  patron?  That  might  be  the  case,  did 
perfection  depend  on  artist  or  pubhc;  but 
neither  of  these  can  create  right  relations, 
they  can  only  seek  to  embody  them.  One 
can  tune  the  strings  of  a  lyre  to  yield  any 
pitch  whatever;  but  the  concords  and  dis- 
sonances do  not  depend  on  the  musician  or 
his  public,  but  on  the  mathematics  of  the 
musical  scale.  Individual  preference  is  but 
a  chance  guide  to  help  the  sensitive  crafts- 
man to  the  apprehension  of  those  necessary 
and  inlierent  harmonies  which  mark  out 
the  true  form  from  all  more  or  less  imper- 
fect approximations. 

The  rivalry  between  Pythios  and  Her- 
mogenes,  who  lived  about  a  century  apart, 
was  a  contest  to  discover  the  same  thing — 
the  most  just  proportions  for  a  series  of 
architectural  parts  of  established  shape  in 
predetermined  sequence  of  arrangement,  in 
fact  the  perfect  norm  for  the  century-old 
Ionic  Order  as  applied  to  the  century-old 
plan  of  the  peripteral  temple.  And  these 
were  great  architects,  the  greatest  perhaps 
among  the  Greeks  of  their  age,  not  because 


AND     MONOGRAPHS 


174 


ESTHETIC     BASIS 


they  had  done  something  new,  but  because 
they  had  done  something  very  old  a  little 
better  than  anyone  else  had  ever  managed 
to  do  it.  The  Athena  temple  at  Priene  and 
the  Artemis  temple  at  Magnesia  were 
claimants  for  one  and  the  same  title,  that 
of  the  Ionic  temple  par  excellence;  their 
size,  their  use,  their  location,  their  cost 
were  all  minor  considerations  to  this  great 
distinction  of  being  canonic,  the  perfection 
of  their  tribe  and  kind.  In  comparison 
with  the  differences  which  are  apparent  in 
any  two  Gothic  cathedrals  built  within  the 
same  century  A.  D.,  these  two  Ionic 
temples  would  be  indistinguishable  one 
from  the  other.  In  this  Ionic  architecture 
of  the  Asia  Minor  coast  we  can  obtain  a 
very  admirable  notion  of  the  extent  to 
which  individual  preference  and  invention 
were  encouraged  or  allowed  to  assert 
themselves. 

The  impression  that  the  Greek  architects 
were  merely  seeking  the  right  form,  not 
striving  to  be  original  or  emotionally  ex- 
pressive, occurs  insistently.  The  propor- 
tions of  the  Doric  Order  change  rapidly 


B  R  Y  N     M  A  W  R     NOTES 


OF     GREEK    ART 

175 

but  consistently  during  the  sixth  and  fifth 
centuries  B.C.    With  the  attainment  of  the 
right  fonn  in  the  Athenian  Propylaea  the 
process  of  development  is  almost  entirely 
arrested.       Later,    the    decidence    of   the 
Order  from  favour  for  temple-construction 
and  the  obvious  need  of  a  lightened  en- 
tablature  in   the   use    of   this    Order   for 
colonnades,  entirely  altered  the  ratios:  the 
form  was  no  longer  right,  an  altered  use 
had  modified  it.     The  profile  of  the  Doric 
capital  changes  greatly  during  the  sixth  and 
fifth  centuries;    but  after  the  time  of  the 
Propylaea  the  only  important  change  is 
the  slight  straightening  of  the  toj)  of  the 
echinus  which  makes  the  capital  so  much 
easier  to  cut — and  entirely  robs  it  of  beauty. 
When  the  architects  no  longer  appreciate 
rightness  of  form,   the  Practical  and  the 
Labor-saving  are  allowed  to  announce  their 
wishes. 

Until  Hellenistic  times  there  was  only 
one   important   innovation   among   archi- 
tectural forms — the  Corinthian  capital — 
and  that  was  jDroduced  under  logical  pres- 
sure because  of  the  inadequacy  of  the  exist- 

AND     MONOGRAPHS 

I 

176 


ESTHETIC     BASIS 


ing  forms.  The  Ionic  capital  posed  an  in- 
soluble problem  at  the  point  where  a 
colonnade  changed  direction  (as  at  the 
corner  of  a  temple),  while  the  Doric  cap- 
ital could  not  be  extricated  from  its  use  with 
the  Doric  entablature  whose  triglyph  was 
a  tyrannous  nuisance  with  its  interference 
in  the  free  spacing  of  columns.  Moreover 
neither  the  Doric  nor  the  Ionic  capital 
strictly  satisfied  the  logical  requirements 
for  the  right  form.  The  capital's  function 
is  to  take  the  entablature  weight  and  trans- 
mit it  to  the  column-shaft.  As  an  inter- 
mediary its  shape  should  be  consonant 
with  those  which  it  serves:  it  should  be 
rectangular  above  and  circular  below  in  its 
cross-section,  and  in  the  intervening  part 
it  must  perfonn  without  effort  the  transi- 
tion from  rectangle  to  circle.  The  Ionic 
capital  does  not  meet  these  requirements; 
the  Doric  lacks  the  transition;  but  the 
Corinthian  will  withstand  the  most  rigor- 
ous criticism.  It  is  a  marvellous  meta- 
morphosis of  a  circle  into  a  rectangle  by  a 
conventional  device  of  leaves  tied  around 
a  shaft. 


BRYN     MAWR     NOTES 


0  F     G  R  E  E  K     A  R  T 

177 

The  development  of  tlie  Ionic  column- 
base  from  the  crude  and  unfelt  forms  of  the 
Samian  Heraion  to  the  Attic  or  the  fourth- 
century  Asia  Minor  types  is  a  coherent  and 
gradual   process.      Contemplating   it.    we 
have  the  impression  of  beholding  in  opera- 
tion that  which  the  metaphysicians  call  a 
Final  Cause,  as  though  it  were  not  each 
term  in  the  series  which  occasioned   the 
next,  but  the  ultimate  and  perfect  form 
like    a    magnet    exerting    its    attraction 
through  all  the  attempts  of  all  the  earlier 
builders.       Compare,    in    particular,    the 
Ionic  bases  of  the  Propylaea,  of  the  east 
porch  of  the  Erechtheum,  and  the  north 
porch  of  the  same  building:   the  last  form 
lies  in  the  first,   and  progress   is   as  un- 
hesitant  as  though  the  path  were  known 
and  the  goal  sighted  in  advance.     Equally 
impressive  is  the  abrupt  cessation  of  ex- 
periments   and   changes    as   soon   as   the 
right  form  has  been  attained.      The  pro- 
file of  the  north  porch  bases  recurs  some 
eighty  years  later  on   the  monument   of 
Lysicrates,    almost    unmodified,    and    the 
form  seems  to  have  imposed  itself  upon 

AND     MONOGRAPHS 

I 

178 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


the  ancient  builders  almost  as  authorita- 
tively as  upon  their  modern  imitators. 
The  Corinthian  capital  has  much  the  same 
history;  its  form,  once  reached,  undergoes 
little  further  change  until  late  Hellenistic 
times. 

This  explanation  for  the  extraordinary 
tyranny  of  the  canonic  form  is  manifestly 
inapplicable  to  all  the  elements  of  the 
Orders.  The  shape  of  a  triglyph  or  mutule 
could  not  be  deduced  from  the  necessities 
of  a  roofed  two-room  shrine  in  trabeated 
stone  or  from  any  other  intellectual  for- 
mula or  requirement.  One  could  derive 
the  column  logically,  but  not  its  diminu- 
tion; the  capital,  but  not  its  profile;  the 
architrave  and  perhaps  the  frieze,  but  not 
their  scheme  of  decoration;  the  cornice, 
but  not  its  profile.  With  the  substitution 
of  stone  for  timber  in  very  early  times  (for 
however  much  one  may  differ  as  to  the 
precise  structure  of  this  timber  prototype, 
it  is  impossible  to  refuse  credence  to  it  in 
some  form  or  other)  the  stmctural  reasons 
for  the  appearance  and  pattern  of  regtila, 
guttae,     triglyph,     mutule,    fasciae,     and 


BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 


OF     GREEK    ART 

179 

dentils  disappeared;   but  the  things  them- 
selves remained.     By  immemorial  tradition 
they  survived,  and  just  because  strict  logic 
made  no  demand  for  their  existence,   it 
made  no  demands  about  them  at  all.    They 
had  come  into  existence  and  now  persisted 
in  their  own  right  as  established  species — 
much  as  there  might  be  no  discoverable  in- 
herent necessity  for  owls  or  weasels,  but 
there  they  were,  and  each  had  its  distinc- 
tive and  estabhshed  form.      That  is  why 
throughout  the  classic  period  these  ele- 
ments of  the  Orders  found  no  rivals.     The 
mind  of  man  might  create  all  manner  of 
designs  and  decorative  details;    but  these 
would  have  no  inner  necessity,  no  reason 
for    being    thus    rather    than    otherwise. 
Dentils  and  mutules  and  triglyphs  might 
be  equally  arbitrary;  but  there  they  were. 
They  existed.     As  detail  of  some  sort  was 
clearly  needed  to  enliven  and  lighten  the 
superstructure,  these  decorative  forms  in- 
herited from  the  old  timber  construction 
were  retained.     So  it  was  that  Greek  archi- 
tecture had  only  two  Orders. 
*     *     * 

A  N  D     M  ON  OGRAPHS 

I 

180 


Another 
explanation 
for  the 
tenacity  ol 
architec- 
tural forms 


ESTHETIC    BASIvS 


Sudi  an  explanation,  howex'cr,  is  not 
wholly  satisfactory.  In  otlier  arts,  decora- 
tive ornaments  usually  have  a  very  well 
marked  career  and  run  through  a  history 
with  recognisably  similar  stages.  The 
ornament  begins  as  a  more  or  less  skillful 
and  accurate  imitation  of  some  actually 
existing  object  of  the  animal  or  vegetable 
or  even  inanimate  world.  By  chnt  of 
repetition  it  loses  its  fidelity  and  freshness, 
becomes  stereotyped  and  conventionalised, 
and  after  a  time  may  drift  so  far  from  its 
original  appearance  that  its  representa- 
tional intent  may  be  lost  to  the  craftsman, 
who  blindly  reproduces  a  meaningless  pat- 
tern. (The  flower  and  marine  motives  of 
Cretan,  Mycenean,  and  sub-Mycenean  art 
may  show  the  phases  of  such  a  develop- 
ment.) But  in  Greek  architecture  (though 
we  find  such  naturalistic  and  living  imi- 
tations as  those  of  the  Corinthian  capital 
or  some  of  the  rinceaux  of  the  simas,  as 
well  as  such  ultra-conventionalised  orna- 
ments as  those  of  the  leaf -patterns  on  the 
various  cymatia),  both  naturalistic  and 
conventionalised  ornament,  once  they  have 


B  R  Y  N     M  A  W  R     NOTES 


O  F     G  REEK     A  R  T 


been  accepted  for  architectural  use,  undergo 
remarkably  little  further  change.  A  prac- 
tised eye  can  distinguish  between  a  Lesbian 
cymation  carved  in  the  sLxth  and  one 
carved  in  the  third  century  B.  C;  but  as 
far  as  representational  value  or  general 
pattern  is  concerned,  the  difference  is 
slight.  Only  a  specialist  can  tell  in  what 
century  a  given  triglyph  was  carved  or  de- 
tect the  difference  between  Ionic  column- 
bases  of  the  fourth  century  B.  C.  and  those 
of  the  subsequent  centuries.  Why  did  the 
ancient  architects  cling  so  closely  to  forms 
and  patterns  that  were  neither  necessary 
nor  especially  logical,  but  merely  tradi- 
tional and  accepted  fashions  of  the  school? 
Perhaps  it  would  be  pertinent  to  ask  a 
closely  similar  ([uestion  of  the  architects  of 
our  own  day.  Why  are  the  old  Greek 
Orders  still  retained  to-day  and  why  are  no 
new  Orders  invented  to  supplement  or  sup- 
plant such  hackneyed  forms  and  formulae? 
When  so  much  might  be  created,  why  only 
an  uninventive  repetition  of  a  fashion  that 
every   e3''e    must    have    seen    a    thousand 


AND     MONOGRAPHS 


182 

ESTHETIC    BASIS 

times?  In  a  word,  why  does  architecture 
persist  in  having  ''Orders"  at  all? 

Why,  after  so  many  hundred  or  even 
thousand  years,  has  architecture  so  few  de- 
vices in  her  copy-book?  Is  it  really  so 
hard  to  invent  an  Order,  that  we  have  only 
five  or  six  for  common  service?  And  what, 
fundamentally,  is  this  fetish,  this  jargon  of 
the  initiate,  about  "styles" — a  Gothic 
''style,"  a  Romanesque,  a  Greco-Roman,  a 
pure  Hellenic  "style"?  Who  or  what 
commanded  that  architects  must  keep  to 
style,  must  copy  and  imitate  and  adapt, 
but  not  invent  wholly  new  things  for  them- 
selves? In  literature  plagiarism  is  held  to 
be  anything  but  a  virtue  and  a  pastiche  is 
accounted  worse  than  a  "potboiler."  Yet 
a  wholly  original,  inventive,  and  unplagiar- 
ising  architect  would  never  get  a  commis- 
sion. How  came  such  a  deplorable  con- 
dition? 

It  is  perfectly  true  that  examination  of 
the  historical  process  in  which  architec- 
tural styles  and  orders  have  come  into 
being  should  warn  us  that  the  attainment  of 
perfection  is  a  tedious  thing  requiring  the 

I 

B  R  Y  N     M  A  W  R    NOTES 

OF     GREEK    ART 

183 

combined  and  successive  energies  of  many 
men  and  outlasting  the  span  of  a  single 
human  life,  so  that  it  is  the  part  of  caution 
and  sound  sense  to  take  from  the  past 
what  the  past  has  found  good;  but  I  think 
there  is  no  other  great  art  in  which  such  a 
plea  can  be  advanced  or  entertained.  No 
doubt  it  is  hard  to  write  a  good  new  piece 
of  music;  but  the  modem  composer  can- 
not therefore  plead  for  privilege  to  take  all 
his  themes  from  Haydn  and  Mozart  and 
his  melodic  developments  from  similar 
treatments  by  earlier  masters. 

Of  course  it  is  immensely  convenient  to 
trace  off  a  good  bit  of  detail  from  the  Arch 
of  Titus  or  the  temple  of  Castor  and  Pollux; 
or  to  put  the  doorway  of  the  Erechtheum 
in  toto  for  the  main  portal  of  a  modern 
bank;  but  if  convenience  is  the  only  excuse 
for  such  a  practice,  it  is  high  time  for  a  new 
generation  of  practitioners  to  arise.  Clearly 
there  is  some  fundamental  principle  which 
is  operative  in  architecture,  however  out 
of  place  it  may  be  in  the  other  arts. 

Contemporary  critics  often  bewail  what 
they  term  the  impasse  of  eclecticism  and 

AND     MONOGRAPHS 

I 

184 


Architec- 
ture a 
representa- 
tional art 


ESTHETIC     BASIS 


pretend  to  see  no  hope  for  an  art  which 
makes  past  achievement  its  sole  guide, 
counsellor,  and  friend.  They  have  failed 
to  observe  that  the  tenacity  of  architec- 
tur:d  tradition  is  due  to  an  instinctive 
clutching  for  something  permanent,  fa- 
miliar, and  universal,  on  which  to  base 
diversity  and  artistic  interest.  The  paucity 
of  invention,  the  seemingly  suicidal  re- 
straint of  variety,  are  necessary  because 
architecture  is  seeking  to  establish  for  itself 
a  real  world  of  recognised  and  recognisable 
objects.  Painting  has  the  seen  world  to 
draw  upon:  it  does  not  have  to  create  and 
establish  its  trees,  rocks,  streams,  mead- 
ows, and  animals,  or  waste  any  effort  in 
persuading  us  that  they  are  things  which 
we  already  know.  But  architecture  has  to 
invent  its  world  of  objects  first,  before  it 
can  use  them.  And  so,  by  the  preference 
of  generations  of  men,  it  settles  upon  those 
types  and  patterns  which  most  commend 
themselves  for  their  grace  or  expressi\c- 
ness  or  utility  or  simplicity,  and  these  be- 
come its  world  of  real  objects  which  it 
imitates  and  represents  amid  those  formal 


B  R  Y  N     U A  W  R    NOTES 


OF    GREEK    ART 


relations  which  physics  will  permit  and 
good  taste  commend.  The  fundamental 
in  such  a  theory  is  the  assertion  that,  in 
spite  of  appearances  to  the  contrary,  archi- 
tecture tends  to  become  a  representational 
art,  and  that  it  imitates  or  represents  a 
conventional  world  of  its  own  creation. 
It  is  precisely  because  a  Doric  entablature 
is  already  famihar  that  it  is  artistically 
useful.  The  architect  does  not  invent  new 
orders  for  much  the  same  reason  that  a 
writer  does  not  invent  new  words,  but  uses 
the  ones  which  are  already  known  to  his 
public,  or  that  the  painter  does  not  invent 
botanical,  zoological,  and  geological  worlds 
of  his  own,  but  imitates  the  familiar  real- 
ities of  the  ordinary  world  of  sense.  It 
should  follow,  as  a  logical  consequent,  that 
the  artistic  intention  of  the  architect  will 
be  uninteUigible  to  anyone  who  is  not  al- 
ready conversant  with  the  traditional  and 
conventional  forms  which  he  reproduces; 
and  this  is  actually  the  case  in  direct  pro- 
portion to  the  fixity  with  which  the  con- 
ventional forms  are  established.  To  the 
uneducated   public   the   language   of   the 


AND     MONOGRAPHS 


186 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


and  there- 
fore in  need 
of  conven 
tional  forms 
for  its  rep 
resentata 


classical  orders  is  wholly  lost,  precisely  be- 
cause they  are  unaware  of  its  alphabet  and 
phraseolog>^ 

Greek  architecture,  indeed,  is  the  out- 
standing instance  of  this  practice  of  estab- 
lishing an  artificial  language  by  convention, 
in  order  to  communicate  architectural  emo- 
tion. Gothic  seems  here  (as  in  so  much 
else)  to  have  been  of  the  other  school  and 
persuasion;  yet  for  all  its  inventive  free- 
dom in  profiles  and  shadows  for  the  mould- 
ings of  piers  and  doorways,  and  its  fertility 
of  intricate  decoration,  Gothic  seems  to 
have  been  well  aware  that  its  freedom  lay 
within  very  definite  bounds  and  to  have 
been  scrupulously  careful  of  the  appropri- 
ateness of  form  to  function.  Gothic  was 
a  rich,  picturesque  language:  the  Greek 
Orders  were  as  concise  as  the  Greek  philo- 
sophical vocabulary  and  consequently 
equally  capable  of  subtle  "  distinctions. 
Only  he  who  knows  the  Greek  Orders  very 
intimately  can  really  appreciate  a  master- 
piece of  Greek  architecture.  Though  in- 
tellectually we  may  understand  the  in- 
tricate minutiae  which  occupied  the  build- 


BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 


OF    GREEK    ART 


187 


ers'  attention,  perhaps  very  few  to-day  can 
really  feel  the  emotions  which  these  min- 
utiae are  intended  to  impart.  They  are 
like  the  subtleties  of  language  which  make 
the  magic  of  great  poetry:  we  must  know 
the  language  amazingly  well  or  we  shall 
wholly  miss  this  magic. 


In  discussing  the  ideal  trend  of  archi- 
tectural form,  I  have  argued  as  though  the 
eidos  or  right  form  were  a  changeless 
thing.  But  this  is  of  course  no  more  true 
of  man-made  forms  than  of  the  forms  of 
the  natural  world  with  their  constant 
though  inappreciably  gradual  evolution. 
Just  as  in  the  realm  of  plants  and  animals 
the  species-type  changes,  so  in  architecture 
(but  much  more  rapidly)  the  various  stand- 
ards change  and  evolve  under  the  influence 
of  taste.  So  definite  and  so  rational  is 
this  transformation  of  the  Greek  Orders, 
that  it  is  almost  possible  to  date  any  given 
building  merely  by  assigning  its  place  in 
this  evolutionary  process."* 

But  if  the  form  is  dependent  upon  con- 


What 
sanction 
is  there 
for  these 
canonic 
forms? 


AND     MONOGRAPHS 


188 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


temporary  taste  and  subject  to  constant, 
if  gradual,  change,  what  assurance  could  an 
ancient  architect  have  that  he  had  indeed 
found  the  right  and  true  form?  Since  all 
the  elements  of  his  work  were  ultimately 
man-devised  and  man-perfected,  what  pos- 
sible guarantee  of  their  objective  fitness 
could  there  be,  or  what  sanction  for  their 
claims  to  be  the  best  type?  That  is  a  ques- 
tion which  the  Greek  must  have  asked  him- 
self. He  found  the  answer  just  where  we 
to-day  might  wish  to  find  it — in  science, 
though  of  course  it  was  the  science  of  his 
day  and  generation  and  consisted  mainly 
of  geometric  theory. 


BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 


OF    GREEK    ART 


189 


It  is  an  impressive  discovery  when  the 
human  mind  first  catches  glimpse  of  the 
eternal  supersensuous  laws  ruling  the 
seemingly  casual  appearances  of  the  world 
of  sense.  This  moment  came  to  the  Greeks 
early  in  their  career  in  the  course  of 
Pythagorean  and  other  geometric  inves- 
tigations. In  musical  theory  its  appear- 
ance was  most  striking.  Sounds — those 
intangible  and  invisible  occurrences,  seem 
ingly  unruled  by  anything  but  a  fortuitous 
concordance  among  themselves — suddenly 
admitted  their  allegiance  to  the  tyranny 
of  geometry  and  number.  The  consonance 
of  two  notes  was  shown  to  depend  on  the 
presence  of  a  simple  integral  numerical 
ratio  between  the  lengths  of  the  strings 
which  produced  them.  Beauty  and  ugli- 
ness of  sound  were  but  functions  of  Num- 
ber and  ratio,  and  therefore  founded  on 
something  measurable,  something  intel- 
ligible. Everywhere,  order  showed  its  con- 
trol within  the  tmiverse — in  the  paths  of 
the   stars,    in   the   structure   of   material 


An  intel- 
lectual 
sanction 
from  the 
super- 
sensual 
world  of 
Number 
(Cf.  fifth- 
century 
sculpture, 
ch.  III.) 


AND    MONOGRAPHS 


190 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


things — and  everywhere,  order  seemed  to 
be  traceable  to  the  influence  of  Number. 
If  the  right  and  wrong  in  something  seem- 
ingly so  elusive  and  unmeasurable  as  mu- 
sical tone  was  based  on  Number,  was  it 
not  even  more  probable  that  a  similar  geo- 
metric or  arithmetic  basis  should  deter- 
mine right  and  wrong  in  the  appearance  of 
seen  objects,  which  were  material  things, 
measurable  and  directly  amenable  to  geo- 
metric notions?  Nature  is  orderly.  The 
forms  for  which  she  strives  are  strikingly 
symmetrical  and  numerically  rational. 
The  accidents  of  matter  obscure  and  con- 
fuse the  simple  geometry  of  her  intentions; 
but  if  we  compare  enough  specimens  of  any 
species,  we  can  eliminate  the  individual  ac- 
cidents and  construct  the  true  form.  Here 
then  is  a  cardinal  assumption  of  Greek 
esthetic  practice — that  there  is  a  true  form 
for  every  class  of  objects  and  that  such  a 
true  form  is  characterised  by  its  geometric 
simplicity,  by  the  commensurability  of  its 
component  members.  For  if  its  parts  be 
not  simply  commensurable,  then  complex 
and   therefore   less   perfect   numbers   will 


BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 


OF     GREEK    ART 


enter  and  take  the  place  of  the  more  per- 
fect ones  which  might  have  been  employed. 
Commensiirability  of  parts,  o-v/x/Acrpta,  is 
consequently  a  test  of  rightness  of  form, 
and  it  behooves  the  architect  to  work  by 
the  aid  of  its  precepts. 

The  generative  ratio  of  the  Doric  Order 
was  fixed  as  2  to  1  in  the  earliest  times  of 
which  we  have  knowledge.  In  the  round 
building  whose  architrave  was  discovered 
in  the  foundations  of  the  Sikyonian  treas- 
ury at  Delphi  this  ratio  was  apparently  not 
followed:  in  Hellenistic  times  the  entab- 
lature (because  so  diminished  in  height) 
is  frequently  poly-triglyphal.  But  be- 
tween these  limits  of  time,  the  ratio  of  2  to 
1  served  for  what  may  be  termed  the  gen- 
erative formula  of  the  Order! in  its  hori- 
zontal extension.  To  every  normal  column 
span  we  find  (enumerating  the  elements  as 
they  lie  one  above  the  other) 

1  column, 

2  regulae, 

2  triglyphs  -f  2  metopes. 

4  mutules, 

4  lions '-heads, 

(8  rows  of  cover-tiles?) 


AND    IMONOGRAPHS 


192 


ESTHETIC     BASIS 


so  that  an  ordinary  Doric  colonnade  beats 
out  a  rhythm  of  full-notes  in  the  columns, 
half  and  quarter  notes  in  the  entablature, 
and  (frequently)  eighth  notes  on  the  sloping 
roof,  and  even  sixteenth  notes  in  the  floral 
ornamentation  of  the  sima  between  the 
lion's-head  water-spouts.  In  the  Zeus 
temple  at  Olympia  the  measurements  in 
ancient  feet  show  how  thoroughly  and  co- 
herently the  ratio  was  applied:  the  width 
of  the  roof-tile  is  taken  as  two  feet,  twice 
this  measure  gives  us  the  width  of  a  mutule 
with  its  via  as  well  as  the  distance  from 
lion's-head  to  lion's-head  on  the  roof  gutter, 
twice  this  latter  measure  gives  the  w4dth 
of  a  triglyph  with  its  metope,  as  well  as 
the  length  of  an  abacus  block,  twice  this 
measure  gives  the  width  from  column 
center  to  column  center,  which  is  also  the 
length  of  an  epistyle  block,  and  twice  this 
last  measure  gives  the  height  of  a  column. 
Finally,  if  the  central  akroterion  of  Nike 
was  life-size,  the  total  height  from  stylo- 
bate  to  peak  of  gable-figure  may  very  prob- 
ably have  equalled  twice  this  last  measure- 
ment.  And  so  with  2X2X2X2X2 


BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 


OF     GREEK    ART 

193 

(X  2?)  the  exterior  of  the  temple  is  built 
up,  and  the  tacit  assumption  seems  to  be 
that  the  eye,  contemplating  these  forms, 
will  be  rhythmically  affected  by  the  simple 
numerical  ratios  inherent  in  them. 

The  giant  columns  of  Pcrsepolis  clearly 
betray  Greek  influence,  and  not  least  in 
their  careful  obser^^ation  of  numerical  sym- 
metry. The  two  fore-parts  of  bulls  which 
carry  the  rafters  are  supported  by  a  four- 
sided  theme,  each  side  of  which  has  four 
scrolls  or  volutes  (each  decorated  with 
sixteen-petalled  rosettes)  into  which  a  four- 
filleted  band  has  been  wound;  this  in  turn 
is  supported  by  a  capital  whose  upper  por- 
tion shows  eight,  while  its  lower  portion 
shows  sixteen,  floral  divisions;  below,  a 
shaft  with  forty-eight  flutings  is  supported 
on  a  base  whose  petal  forms  number 
twenty-four. 

There  can  of  course  be  no  doubt  of  the 
conscious  use  of  this  simplest  of  all  nu- 
merical ratios  as  a  generative  fomiula  in 
the  Doric  Order,  but  it  should  not  be  im- 
agined that  all  the  measurements  therefore 
will  be  found  to  be  mathematically  exact — 

AND    MONOGRAPHS 

I 

194 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


all  equal  or  double  or  quadruple — in  the 
ancient  Doric  temples.  In  the  Sicilian 
temples'  especially  there  occur  the  greatest 
irregularities  in  the  spacing  of  the  columns 
and  the  sizes  of  the  various  members. 
Much  of  this  may  be  attributed  to  indif- 
ferent workmanship,  since  the  eye  really 
exacts  only  very  general  approximations  to 
the  mathematically  correct  in  architectural 
ratios.  But  in  the  classic  instance  of  the 
Parthenon  it  is  a  very  difficult  thesis  to 
maintain  that  the  irregularities  are  at- 
tributable to  mason's  errors  or  the  archi- 
tect's indifference  to  exactness.  Rather  it 
appears  that  the  builders  deliberately 
sought  to  temper  the  mathematically  cor- 
rect by  slight  departures  from  the  "true" 
measurements,  even  carrying  this  ideal  so 
far  that  they  left  no  straight  line  straight 
nor  any  equal  spacing  equal. ^  We  cannot 
fail  to  recall  the  practice  of  the  sculptors 
contemporary  to  the  Periclean  architects, 
and  particularly  that  reputedly  Poly- 
kleitan  saying  concerning  the  ''many  num- 
bers" which  ''almost''  give  perfection. 
The  so-called  ''refinements"  of  Periclean 


BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 


OF    GREEK    ART 

195 

architecture,  the  slight  deviations  from  per- 
fect   regularity    and   symmetry,    are   not 
optical  corrections  for  untrue  illusions,*  but 
are  added  in  order  to  give  life  to  the  purely 
mathematical     correctness    of     the    £t8r/; 
they  are  the  departures  from  the  ttoXAwv 
cLfiiOixoiv   the    -rrapa    fxtKpov    out    of    which 
arises  to  cv.     Certainly  it  is  a  very  sur- 
prising thing  that  the  Parthenon  measure- 
ments cannot  be  reduced  to  feet  and  dactyls 
according  to  any  common  scale.    A  foot  of 
.2957  meters  will  do  fairly  well;   a  foot  of 
.3362  meters  will  apply  with  nearly  equal 
success;    but  neither  these  nor  any  other 
unitary  lengths  will  fit  all  the  measure- 
ments, because  they  are  integrally  incom- 
mensurable.    We  can  only  conclude  that 
the  builders  of  the  Parthenon  (whether  by 
intelligent  imitation  or  by  intuitive  artistic 
taste)  had  applied  to  architecture  the  same 
secret   of  beauty  which   governs  natural 
forms — the  tempering  of  geometric  accu- 
racy by  minute  deviations  in  the  interest 
of  irregularity.      I  need  only  refer  to  the 
extraordinary      mathematical      precision 
which  underlies  natural  forms  in  the  vege- 

AND     MONOGRAPHS 

I 

196 


"Eidos" 
and  "hylc 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


table  and  animal  worlds' o  and  to  the  patent 
observation  that  in  any  given  individual 
of  the  species  the  precision  of  the  under- 
lying form  is  always  tempered  by  the  ir- 
regularities attendant  upon  the  chance  ele- 
ments of  environment  and  growth,  and  add 
that  we  are  apt  to  find  the  actual  slightly 
irregularised  flower  or  shell  more  real,  more 
"living,"  and  more  artistically  moving  than 
the  cold  geometrical  perfection  of  the  un- 
derlying form.  The  form  only  lives  when 
it  is  irregularised  in  matter.  In  architec- 
ture the  forms  are  man-devised;  but  if  they 
are  harmonised  with  mathematical  pre- 
cision and  then  irregularised  in  their  ma- 
terial presentation,  they  will  acquire  a 
status  analogous  to  that  of  a  living  thing  in 
nature. 

The  esthetic  value  of  using  convention- 
ally established  architectural  forms,  or 
''Orders,"  is  again  proven.  For  only  if  the 
forms  are  already  established  as  species, 
can  there  be  any  chance  of  success  for  this 
device  of  tempered  irregularity  which  will 
impart  individual  existence  to  each  em- 
bodiment of  the  species-form.      The  em- 


BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 


OF    GREEK    ART 


ployment  of  the  Greek  "refinements" 
would  be  neither  useful  nor  explicable  if 
these  did  not  constitute  appreciable  de- 
partures from  clearly  recognisable  and  al- 
ready familiar  norms.  As  Greek  philos- 
ophy might  have  stated  it,  the  eidos  is 
characterised  by  mathematical  perfection; 
this  perfection  is  somewhat  obscured  when 
the  eidos  is  imprinted  in  matter;  but  it  is 
precisely  from  its  minute  deviations  and 
irregularities  away  from  the  standard  form 
that  the  individual  instance  derives  its  in- 
di^'iduality  and  its  right  to  a  place  in  the 
phenomenal  world  of  sense. 

There  is  a  considerable  body  of  testi 
mony  all  tending  to  ascribe  a  sense  of  the 
unliving  ("rigid,"  "cold,"  "uninteresting," 
are  typical  words)  to  buildings  which  dis 
play  complete  precisit)n  in  their  measure- 
ments, and  a  contrary  impression  of  life 
("alive,"  "warm,"  "elastic,"  "appealing," 
are  frequent  epithets)  to  the  irregularised 
perfection  of  such  buildings  as  the  Parthe- 
non. 

It  is  not  apparent  that  this  principle  of 
tempered  precision  was  largely  used  after 


AND  MONOGRAPHS 


198 


Number 
still  at 
work 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


the  fifth  century.  I  believe  that  the  frag- 
ments of  later  Ionic  architecture  show  a 
very  small  margin  of  error,  small  enough 
to  be  unintentional  on  the  part  of  the 
builders.  The  curvature  of  horizontal  lines 
was  largely  abandoned,  and  the  ideal  of 
accurate  perfection  seems  to  have  main- 
tained itself  thereafter  in  most  of  the 
Greco-Roman  as  in  the  Renaissance  and 
modern  classical  schools;  but  these  state- 
ments are  subject  to  confirmation  or  cor- 
rection. 

*     *     * 

In  the  Ionic  entablature  there  was  no 
obvious  opportunity  of  setting  up  rhythmic 
accord  with  the  columns  by  a  simple  ratio, 
as  in  the  Doric  Order.  The  Ionic  archi- 
trave carries  no  \'%rtical  ornament,  the 
figured  frieze  is  horizontally  continuous, 
the  crowning  mouldings  of  the  members  are 
too  minute  to  be  serviceable.  There  re- 
main only  the  dentils  and  the  sima.  Of 
these,  the  dentils  furnish  a  very  clear  ver- 
tical motive  repeated  in  horizontal  exten- 
sion;   but  they  are  rather  small,  and  the 


B  R  Y  N     M  A  W  R     NOTES 


OF    GREEK    ART 

199 

consequent  accord  of  ten  to  fifteen  dactyls 
for  each  intercolumniation  is  not  a  relation 
which  the  eye  would  easily  detect  or  from 
which  it  would  derive  any  particular  satis- 
faction.     The   sima,    however,    with    its 
lions '-heads,  could  be  utilised  and — though 
the  matter  has  not  been  thoroughly  inves- 
tigated— it  would  appear  that  the  architect 
Pythios  employed  these  lions' -heads  to  es 
tablish  a  3  to  1  ratio  with  the  colonnade. 
Thus,  on  his  great  work  the  Mausoleum^^ 
and   his   master  work  the   little   Athena 
temple  at  Priene,  the  lions'-heads  space 
three  to  the  colimin  interval,  and  are  so 
placed  that  two  out  of  every  triad  are  ex- 
actly over  the  eyes  of  the  volutes  of  cap- 
itals as  well  as  over  the  edges  of  the  column 
shafts  at  their  mean  height. ^^   By  this  de- 
vice the  eye  is  led  to  single  out  at  three 
levels    (at    mean    column-height,    at    the 
capital,  and  at  the  roof -gutter)  a  horizontal 
measurement  which  recurs   continuously, 
while  every  third  recurrence  of  it  is  ac- 
cented by  a  column.     With  this  tri-partite 
division  the  dentils  are  not  brought  into 
accord  on  the  Mausoleum;  but  in  P\i:hios' 

AND     MONOGRAPHS 

I 

200 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


later  work,  the  Athena  temple  at  Priene, 
there  are  five  dentils  to  each  lion-spacing. 
A  century  later,  in  the  Artemis  temple  at 
Magnesia  on  the  Meander,  Hennogenes 
seems  to  have  adhered  to  this  same  3  to  1 
rhythm. 

The  same  ratio  also  obtained  vertically 
in  the  Ionic  Order;  for  the  entablature  was 
rather  evenly  divided  into  the  three  ele- 
ments of  epistyle,  frieze,  and  cornice,  while 
the  epistyle  was  subdivided  into  three 
horizontal  fasciae  and  the  cornice  into  three 
elements,  dentils,  geison,  and  sima,^^ 
though  these  usually  were  of  tmequal 
height. 

Plans  and  facades  were  also  laid  out  to 
exhibit  simple  ratios.  The  length  and 
breadth  of  the  Parthenon  stylobate  are  as 
4  to  9.  At  Peiraeus  in  the  arsenal  which 
Philon  built  in  the  latter  fourth  century, 
the  front,  beneath  the  cornice,  was  a  per- 
fect rectangle,  twice  as  wide  as  it  was  high; 
on  the  long  sides  the  ratio  of  length  to 
height  was  exactly  15  to  1.  The  interior 
floor  space  was  a  rectangle  whose  sides  were 
related  as  8  to  1 . 


BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 


OF     GREEK    ART 


Finally,  attention  might  be  called  to  the 
predilection  for  ''round"  or  perfect  num- 
bers. Athena's  old  temple  on  the  Acro- 
polis was  known  as  the  "  Hundredf  oot "  and 
the  sanctuary  room  of  the  Parthenon  may 
perhaps  have  kept  this  measurement  for 
its  length.  The  cella  of  the  Athena  temple 
at  Priene  measm-ed  100  feet  in  length  from 
wall-face  to  wall-face. 

The  use  of  Number  penetrated  into  ar- 
chitectura  Ipractice  much  farther  than  the 
mere  horizontal  rh5rthm  or  the  simple  com- 
mensiurability  of  the  larger  elements.  In 
the  fully  established  canons  of  the  fourth 
and  third  centuries,  in  the  work  of  the 
Ionic  architects  Pythios  and  Hermogenes, 
it  would  appear  that  every  smallest  ele- 
ment was  dominated  and  determined  in  its 
measurements  by  numerical  relations.  In 
trying  to  unravel  their  skein  of  nimibers, 
the  student  will  discover  that  much  of  the 
commensurability  may  be  ascribed  to  the 
architect's  use  of  a  foot-rule,  and  will  be 
tempted  to  believe  that  this  simple  ex 
planation  is  sufficient.  Where  stones  were 
laid  off  to  a  measure  of  feet  and  dactyls 


AND     MONOGRAPHS 


202 

ESTHETIC     BASIS 

they  could  not  well  fail  to  be  commensur- 
able.    But  since  there  were  16  dactyls  to 
the  ancient  foot,  divisions  and  subdivisions 
would  have  to  partake  of  the  nature  of 
continued  bisection:    division  by  3,  5,  or 
7  would  seldom  yield  lengths  measurable 
in  dactyls.      Yet  if  Dinsmoor's  measure- 
ments of  the  Mausoleum  fragments  in  the 
British   Museum   are   correct,   such   com- 
mensurable but  not  measurable^''  relations 
were  employed,  and  Vitruvius  refers  fre- 
quently to  division  into  7,  9,  11,  13,  etc. 
It   would  seem  therefore  that   the   com- 
mensurability  of  parts  is  not  an  accidental 
corollary  of  the  employment  of  a  measured 
foot-rule,  but  an  intentional  artistic  prac- 
tice. 

A  further  objection  can  be  raised.     Vi- 
truvius, who  must  have  had  access  to  the 
traditional  canons  of  some  of  these  Greek 
architects    (Hermogenes   in   particular)    is 
full  of  rules  of  perfection.     He  instils  com- 
mensurability  {modulatio  or  commodulatio) 
by  determining  a  modulus  or  unit  with 
which  to  measure  off  diameters  and  heights 
and  widths.     Out  of  any  measurement  so 

T 

BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 

OF     GREEK    ART 


established  a  new  modulus  may  be  derived 
for  fixing  details  and  lesser  elements  in  a 
design. 

Thus,  for  example,  the  heights  of 
mouldings  are  stated  as  fractions  of  the 
members  to  which  they  belong;  the  mid- 
dle fascia  of  an  Ionic  epistyle  is  taken  as 
a  modulus  for  the  geison;  the  diameter 
of  the  oculus  of  an  Ionic  capital  gives 
the  amount  of  projection  for  the  echinus, 
and  so  on.  This  method  of  passing  from 
one  modulus  to  another  is  nowhere  more 
clearly  expressed  by  Vitruvius  than  in 
his  description  of  the  Ionic  doorw^ay. 
.  .  .  From  this  example  we  see  that 
though  each  member  of  the  doorway  is 
regarded  as  a  modulus  or  measure  of  its 
immediate  neighbour,  nevertheless  all 
are  connected  with  each  other  and  with 
the  large  dimension  of  the  whole  by  a 
common  measure.  This  illustrates  the 
\^itruvian  conception  of  proportion  and 
there  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  the 
standpoint  of  the  Greek  authors  from 
whom  he  derived  his  inspiration  was  noi 
essentiallv  different.''' 


A  N  D     MONOGRAPHS 


204 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


It  is  a  frequent  impression  among  modem 
readers  and  commentators  of  Vitruvius 
that  these  rules  for  the  minutest  details  of 
the  elements  of  the  Orders  are  intended  to 
be  purely  practical  devices  to  save  time  and 
trouble  with  simple  rules-of -thumb;  and 
so  they  may 'have  been  in  Vitruvius'  own 
time — and  since  then.  But  all  our  discus- 
sion has  tended  to  show  that  this  is  not  the 
whole  explanation,  but  that  we  have  in 
these  canons  the  echo  of  that  old  faith  in 
the  efficacy  of  Number  to  establish  the  per- 
fection of  the  foim. 


BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 


OF    GREEK    ART 


I  have  dwelt  a  good  deal  on  this  nu- 
merical aspect  of  Greek  architecture  not 
only  because  it  is  philosophically  interest- 
ing in  its  own  right,  but  also  because  of 
certain  remarkable  implications  which  it 
involves.  Out  of  Number  come  com- 
mensurability  of  lengths  and  siuf  aces  and, 
by  repetition,  architectural  beat  and 
rhythm.  But  all  these  in  Greek  archi- 
tecture are  only  effective  upon  the  spec- 
tator if  the  matter  in  which  they  are  em- 
bodied is  seen  as  in  one  and  the  same  plane. 

The  rhythm  of  a  Doric  colonnade  with 
its  measured  recurrence  of  columns  moving 
past,  while  the  triglyphs  double  and  the 
cornice  and  roof  quadruple  the  same  steady 
beat — all  this  is  effective,  indeed  exists  for 
the  beholder,  only  if  all  these  elements  are 
felt  to  be  on  a  single  surface  or  area  or 
plane.  Theirs  is  an  art  of  related  lines  and 
surfaces,  not  of  solids. 

Now  it  is  perfectly  true  that  "inequality 
is  the  normal  fact  of  optical  appearance "" 
and  that  none  of  the  equal  surfaces  of  suc- 


AND     MONOGRAPHS 


205 


Spatial  pre- 
sentation 
once  more. 
(Cf.  chap- 
ter II.) 
Nvimbcr  a 
function  of 
two-dimen- 
sional pre- 
sentation 


206 


Greek 
architec- 
ture 

ace  ordingly 
an  art  of 
two  dimen- 
sions 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


cessive  metopes  or  the  equal  spacings  of 
triglyphs  or  regulae  or  lions '-heads  will 
really  be  equal  in  our  field  of  vision  be- 
cause of  the  perspective  in  which  they  are 
seen.  But  the  mind  has  learned  to  cor- 
rect the  appearances  which  the  eye  en- 
counters and  to  read  off  the  true  state  be- 
hind the  changes  of  perspective  vision. 
But  it  does  this,  in  Greek  architecture,  by 
the  assumption  of  a  plane  in  which  all  the 
unequal  appearances  actually  lie  with  all 
their  appropriate  lengths  and  areas  equal. 
It  is  by  referring  them  to  a  single  plane  that 
the  mind  reconstitutes  that  recurrence  of 
equal  intervals  on  which  the  sense  of 
rhythm  depends. 

It  should  follow  that  Greek  architecture, 
in  order  to  make  its  use  of  number  effective, 
must  have  been  an  architecture  of  planes 
rather  than  of  solids.  This  was  precisely 
the  case. 

Instead  of  true  depth,  Greek  architec- 
ture gives  us  successive  and  usually  parallel 
planes.  The  stoa  or  colonnade  presents  the 
front  plane  of  the  exterior  order,  the  middle 
plane  of  the  columns  which  support  the 


BRYN     MAWR     NOTES 


OF     GREEK    ART 

207 

roof-beam,  and  the  rear  plane  of  the  wall 
at  the  back.     There  is  no  sense  of  depth  or 
enclosed  space.      Rather,  the  true  depth 
has  been  converted  into  a  succession  of 
nearly  flat  and  wholly  disconnected  sur- 
faces— precisely  as  in  Greek  relief  sculpture. 
Even   the   roof,    thanks    to   the   straight 
mounting  lines  of  the  cover-tiles,  joins  in 
the  vertical  planes.      The  human  beings 
moving  in  this  colonnade  appear  to  the  ex- 
terior spectator  like  bas  reliefs  on  the  rear 
plane. 

With  the  temple  it  is,  of  course,   the 
same.    On  the  long  sides  there  are  two  par- 
allel planes,  that  of  the  colonnade  and  that 
of  the  naos  wall;   on  the  short  sides  there 
are  three  planes,  that  of  the  exterior  colon- 
nade, that  of  the  vestibule  colonnade  and 
that  of  the  rear  wall  of  the  vestibule  (with 
or  without  its  doorway  with  door  or  hang- 
ing).    More  complicated  vistas  in  agora  or 
temcnos    only    add    other    planes.       In 
glimpses     across     angles     of     colonnaded 
squares,   or   through   comers   of   dipteral 
temples,  the  masses  are  all  presented  at  in- 
tervals so  that  the  eye  sees  a  series  of 

AND     MONOGRAPHS 

1 

208 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


superimposed  surfaces  sharply  divided  by 
an  intervening  break  of  perfectly  indeter- 
minate extent.  It  should  be  added  that 
the  Greek  atmosphere  encourages  this  im- 
pression by  eating  up  the  air's  appearance 
of  solidity,  so  that  space  loses  its  density 
and  stirfaces  seem  directly  superimposed. 

Not  all  these  planes  are  parallel  since 
the  colonnades  surround  the  temple  on  the 
exterior  and  frequently  the  agora  or  te- 
menos  on  its  inner  face .  But  only  one  angle 
is  permitted,  the  right  angle  of  90  degrees. 
Just  as  the  mind  interprets  the  perspective 
of  the  stoa  by  its  knowledge  that  it  lies  in 
a  single  plane,  so  it  can  proceed  to  the  more 
difficult  perspective  of  a  comer  if  the  angle 
is  known  and  constant.  The  rectangular- 
ity  of  Greek  plans  is  theu*  most  remarkable 
characteristic.  Temples,  temple  enclos- 
ures, market-places,  houses,  and  (after  the 
fifth  century)  towns  and  cities  are  rect- 
angular without  break  or  pity,  as  the 
architecture  of  planes  demanded  that  they 
must  be. 

And  so  there  follows  the  most  remarkable 
property    of    all    in    Greek    architecture. 


BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 


OF    GREEK    ART 


Since  its  appearances  all  lie  in  parallel  or 
perpendicular  planes,  it  can  only  defiiie  or 
bound  solid  space,  and  cannot  enclose  it. 

Just  as  there  is  no  true  depth  to  a  Greek 
colonnade,  but  only  the  specious  depth  of 
Greek  sculptured  relief,  so  there  is  no  sense 
of  space  shut  in  and  contained  in  anything 
that  the  Greek  builders  made.  Even  the 
temple-interiors  offered  only  more  colon- 
nades and  walls  in  parallel  planes,  topped 
by  a  flat  ceihng  which  was  only  another 
plane  at  right  angles.  Such  a  procedure 
bounds  space,  defines  it;  but  though  me- 
chanically it  contains  space  because  it 
shuts  it  off,  it  is  powerless  to  impart  any 
such  feeling  to  the  human  mind.  Whereas 
a  vault  closes  down  upon  space  and  makes 
space  sensible,  a  panel  ceiling  merely  ties 
the  walls.  In  the  terms  of  relief -carving 
it  acts  like  the  straight  edge  or  step  be- 
tween successive  planes. 

That  these  temple  interiors  were  but 
half-lighted  is  perhaps  an  indication  that 
artistically  they  were  but  half-felt  or  half- 
considered.  They  were  but  the  space  en- 
closed by  the  inner  faces  of  the  walls ;  they 


AND     MONOGRAPHS 


210 

ESTHETIC    BASIS 

were  the  inside  of  the  treasure-chest,  serv- 
ing to  shut  in  the  gold  and  the  sacred  heir- 
looms;  and  just  as  the  outside  of  a  chest 
has  the   craftsman's  favor  and  gets  the 
carving  and  gilding,  so  it  was  the  exterior 
aspect  of  these  enclosing  walls  which  ap- 
pealed to  the  ancient  builder. 

No  doubt  this  is  somewhat  fanciful,  and 
there  exists  a  better  reason  for  the  opinion 
that    interiors   were   the   least   successful 
aspect  of  Greek  architectiue.     For  it  is  of 
the  utmost  importance  to  note  that  Greek 
architecture  had  almost  no  need  (of  a  di- 
rect practical  kind)  for  trying  to  shut  space 
in.      Greek  life  was  out  of  doors.      The 
houses  were  mere  sleeping-cells   about  a 
central  patio,  the  theatres  were  unroofed 
gathering-places  of  the  people  upon  the 
hill-side;     the   market-places   were   open; 
even  the  shops  were  mere  store-houses  from 
which  goods  for  the  day's  trade  could  be 
brought   out   to   be   spread   in   the   open 
bazaar;    the  colonnades  were  but  casual 
out-of-door  shelters  from  wind  and  rain 
and   sun;     the   schools   were   out-of-door 
palaestrae;   the  hospitals  were  colonnades 

I 

BRYN     MAWR     NOTES 

OF     GREEK    ART 

211 

in  the  sacred  precinct  of  Aesclepios.     Only 
the  temples  and  the  council-rooms  so  much 
as  put  the  problem  of  enclosing  air-space 
with  encompassing  masonry.     Before  the 
late  Hellenistic  age,  domestic  architecture 
hardly    existed.      It    is    not    remarkable, 
therefore,    that    the    architects    devoted 
themselves  wholly  to  external  appearances 
or  that,  given  the  Greek  conditions  of  at- 
mosphere and  light,  they  learned,  as  no 
other  race  has  done,  the  secret  of  surface 
and  line,  but  got  no  farther  in  the  esthetics 
of  their  art  than  the  expression  of  support 
in  vertical  parallel  planes. 

We  may  assert,  therefore,  that  the  Greek 
architects  had  no   comprehension  of  the 
artistic    handling    of    space    in    interiors. 
That  vast  preoccupation  of  Gothic  and 
modern  designers  was  to  them  a  book  un- 
opened.    If  a  paradox  is  permissible,  their 
only    interior    compositions    were    out-of- 
doors,  where  the  roof  was  the  blue  sky. 
In  town-square  and  temple -precinct  they 
composed  spatial  complexes;   but  the  pic- 
ture is  always  made  of  overlapping  sur- 
faces moving  across  one  another  as  the 

AND     MONOGRAPHS 

I 

212 


More 
general 
considera- 
tions of 
two-dimen- 
sional 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


spectator  moves.  The  intervening  depths 
are  lost,  just  as  they  were  lost  for  the 
ridges  and  gulleys  and  forests  of  their  own 
beloved  mountains  which  still  to-day  show 
like  flat  bas-reliefs  against  the  Grecian  sky. 


Architecture  makes  its  esthetic  appeal 
visually,  utilising  both  two-dimensional 
and  three-dimensional  presentations  of 
itself  to  its  beholder.  For  two-dimensional 
presentations  it  depends  upon  its  appear- 
ance in  the  flat,  as  though  it  aimed  at  plane 
composition,  with  a  design  in  areas  whose 
mutually  related  shapes  and  sizes,  colors 
and  positions  were  the  object  of  esthetic 
contemplation  and  the  source  of  esthetic 
delight.  Almost  any  fagade  is  a  composi- 
tion of  this  kind.  The  ItaHan  Renaissance 
carried  to  a  high  refinement  and  subtlety 
the  art  of  such  planilinear  presentation. 
The  fronts  of  the  Municipio  at  Verona  and 
the  Grimani  palace  in  Venice  are  instances 
of  compositions  for  whose  appreciation  we 
shall  need  some  feeling  for  the  alternating 
rhythm  with  which  wall-space  and  window- 


BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 


OF    GREEK    ART 

213 

space,  light  and  shadow,  column  and  col- 
umn, are  held  against  each  other  for  con- 
trast of  recurrent  agreement. 

Three-dimensional  presentation  may  be 
most  intelligibly  explained  as  the  effort  of 
architecture  to  suggest  the  enclosing  of 
space.     In  sculpture  we  saw  art  striving  to 
impart  a  sense  of  space  solidly  occupied. 
In  architectvu-e  we  have  a  striving  to  out- 
line, define,  and  limit  space  within  an  en- 
closing shell  or  boundary.     It  is  not  enough 
that  walls  and  roof  do  actually  enclose 
space;  it  is  the  artist's  part  to  make  them 
seem  to  do  so,  that  the  spectator  may  by 
direct  visual  apprehension  be  aware  of  this 
power  and  property  of  the  builded  thing. 
St.  Sophia,  seen  from  without— for  all  its 
clumsy  contours— most  patently  succeeds 
in  imparting  this  sense  of  space  enclosed. 
To  do  so  is  indeed  one  of  the  original  and 
distinctive  qualities  of  the  Byzantine  style 
which  differentiates  it  from  the  preceding 
Greek  as  thoroughly  in  the  esthetic  domain 
as  the  use  of  domes  on  pendentives  marks 
it  off  in  the  mechanical  domain.     It  is  ob- 
vious that  since  architecture,  unlike  sculp- 

and  three- 
dimensional 
presenta- 
tion 

AND     MONOGRAPHS 

I 

214 

ESTHETIC     BAvSIS 

ture,  is  intended  to  be  seen  from  within  as 
well  as  from  without,  the  artistic  problem 
occurs  not  merely  for  the  visual  presenta- 
tion of  the  exterior  but  recurs  even  more 
insistently   for   the   interior.      And   here, 
since  the  spectator  is  himself  physically 
within  the  enclosed  space,  the  three-dimen- 
sional presentation  is  of  the  utmost  impor- 
tance and  carries  with  it  an  extraordinary 
range  of  emotional  affection.     The  spec- 
tator is  peculiarly  at  the  mercy  of  every 
spatial  suggestion,  so  that  an  almost  mag- 
ical power  accrues  to  the  intelligent  master 
of  this  art.     The  apprehended  space  may 
bear  almost  no  similarity  to  the  actual 
physical    space    of    such-and-such    cubic 
volume  which  is  determinable  by  measure- 
ment.    One  has  but  to  recall  the  nave  of  a 
large  Roman  basilica  and  that  of  a  major 
Gothic  cathedral  to  understand  how  little 
a    propos    are   the   actual   dimensions   of 
height  and  width. 

It  is  just  this  power  of  three-dimensional 
presentation    (so   marvellous   an   achieve- 
ment of  the  Gothic  style)  which  I  feel  to  be 
almost  entirely  absent  in  ancient  Greek 

I 

BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 

OF     GREEK    ART 


architecture.     It  confines  itself  to  a  two- 
dimensional  presentation. 

Indeed,  I  am  tempted  to  hazard  the 
seeming  absurdity  that  the  East  Mediter- 
ranean people  live  in  a  much  less  three 
dimensional  world  than  the  North  Euro 
peans.  A  visual  space  in  which  all  distant 
objects  tend  to  be  projected  upon  a  single 
plane  would  not  present  so  much  depth,  so 
much  three-dimensional  solidity,  as  a  vis- 
ual space  in  which  the  correct  distance  of 
objects  was  more  clearly  defined.  A  race 
living  in  a  spatial  environment  of  the  first 
type  would  incline  in  its  art  to  silhouette 
drawing  and  flat  "decorative"  design.  It 
is  not  accidental  that  Egyptian  drawing 
never  succeeded  in  indicating  aerial  depth 
and  distance,  or  that  a  great  power  for 
enveloping  painted  scenery  in  atmospheric 
shadow  arose  in  the  school  of  the  Nether- 
lands. In  Egypt  and  Arabia  the  shadow 
of  a  modelled  projection  tends  to  look  like 
a  dark  surface  in  the  same  plane  as  its  back- 
ground and  it  is  therefore  disturbing  to  the 
beauty  of  the  design  unless  its  superficial 
area  and  outline  agree  with  the  rest  of  the 


215 


(but  not  in 
Greece) 


AND     MONOGRAPHS 


Climate 
and  space 


216 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


pattern.  How  much  of  the  quality  of 
pierced  black-and-white  ornament  of 
Alschatta,  Syrian  Byzantine,  and  Coptic 
decoration  is  not  explained  by  this  at- 
mospheric^ accident?  And  how  much  is 
not  the  Perso-Mesopotamian  genius  for 
decorative  pattern  in  rugs  and  hangings 
and  fayence  a  function  of  an  atmospheric 
compulsion  toward  flat  design  and  toward 
polychromy  as  a  substitute  for  the  chia- 
roscuro of  varying  projections  and  model- 
ling? Conversely,  in  the  rainy  and  foggy 
lands,  third-dimensional  depth  is  directly 
given  in  visual  perception,  since  projec- 
tions and  shadows  keep  to  their  own  plane 
and  hold  their  distance.  The  repeated 
mouldings  of  Gothic  portals  and  piers  de- 
pend greatly  upon  this  possibility  of  real 
spatial  extension  of  objects  in  light  and 
shadow.  Is  it  any  wonder  that  the  deep 
portals  and  the  great  Gothic  interiors  never 
grew  in  Italian  but  flourished  in  Northern 
European  air?  And  is  it  not  a  futility  to 
take  Greek  architecture,  calculated  for 
\nsual  projection  upon  parallel  planes 
which  the  climate  of  Greece  enforces,  and 


BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 


OF    GREEK    ART 


to  transplant  it  to  Liverpool  or  Berlin  where 
it  will  be  riddled  with  depth,  like  a  curtain 
shot  through  with  holes? 

Upon  this  two-dimensional  character  of 
its  visual  presentation  Greek  architecture 
based  its  artistic  effects.  Since  support  in 
the  immediate  vertical  plane  was  all  that 
such  an  art  could  present  to  the  eye,  all 
expression  of  weight  sustained  and  held 
aloft  must  appear  in  the  arrangement  of 
lines  and  surfaces  in  the  frontal  plane  of 
the  Order.  The  entablature  presses  fiat 
upon  the  columns  and  therefore  can  toler- 
ate only  horizontal  or  vertical  lines  in  its 
decoration,  since  in  this  way  the  heavy  un- 
comprising  mass  can  be  made  directly  in- 
telligible. Our  eyes  follow  the  horizontal 
lines  and  our  emotions  instinctively  in- 
terpret such  lines  in  terms  of  mass  in  a  state 
of  rest.  We  have  experienced  just  such  a 
sweep  of  line  in  looking  at  the  horizon  of 
plains  or  of  the  ocean :  it  is  the  line  of  things 
outspread,  heavy  and  immovable  and  en- 
during, held  by  gravity,  but  in  no  danger 
of  falling.  The  coliunns  express  in  their 
contour  successful  but  not  effortless  re- 


217 


Greatness 
of  Greek 
architec- 
ture in  its 
own 

restricted 
domain 


AND  MONOGRAPHS 


218 

ESTHETIC    BASIS 

sistance  to  this  downward  pressure,  which 
weighs  squarely  and  heavily  upon  them 
until  they  bulge  with  the  pressure.  Here 
presumably  is  the  psychology  of  entasis: 
it  is  the  visible  yielding  to  compression 
until  a  stable  condition  of  resistance  is 
reached.  It  establishes  an  analogy  with 
hirnian  muscular  effort  and  presents  it 
directly  to  our  emotional  sensibiUty. 

Obviously  the  Doric  Order  with  its  heav- 
ier and  simpler  entablature,  more  massive 
columns,  and  more  pronounced  entasis 
carries  this  appeal  much  farther  than  does 
the  Ionic,  which  has  comparatively  a  light 
and  variegated  load  which  it  carries  easily 
and  with  elegance.  It  is  because  of  this 
direct  visual  presentation  of  the  vertical 
support  of  a  great  weight,  not  without  ef- 
fort, that  the  Doric  temples  are  so  "vigor- 
ous," so  "powerful,"  so  "enduring"  and 
"eternal."  The  nearby  rocks  against 
which  the  sheep  rub  their  flanks  have  lasted 
in  their  places  longer  than  these  ruined 
temples;  but  it  is  the  temples  which  cry 
aloud  that  they  are  everlasting. 

As  long  as  the  mere  problem  of  overcom- 

I 

BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 

OF    GREEK    ART 

219 

ing  mechanical  difficulties  besets  and  trou- 
bles the  builder,  he  will  take  delight  in 
visuahsing  through  architectural  means  the 
weight  of  stones  and  the  effort  of  holding 
them  aloft.     This  is  why  so  much  early 
work  of  the  hirnian  races  is  megaHthic  or 
massive  or  (where  the  race  is  artistically 
more  sensitive  and  more  gifted)  more  im- 
posing and  more  able  to  impart  a  sense  of 
great  weight  nobly  borne.    But  when  the 
mere   mechanical    obstacles    cease    to    be 
obstacles,  the  builder  loses  his  feehng  for 
the  sheer  oppression  of  weight  and  tends 
more  and  more  to  deHght  in  imparting  the 
very   opposite   sensation  of  stone  poised 
aloft  as  though  it  weighed  nothing,  and 
using  it  for  a  free  fantasy  of  imaginative 
constructions.     The  analogy  between  Ro- 
manesque with  the  successive  three  periods 
of  Gothic  and  the  progress  of  Greek  archi- 
tecture is  therefore  not  casual  but  neces- 
sary.   The  Doric  Order  is  gradually  robbed 
of  its  sense  of  size  and  weight  and  the  Ionic 
Order  grows  more  and  more  universally 
popular  only  to  yield  to  a  Corinthian  Style 

A  sugges- 
tion 

AND     MONOGRAPHS 

I 

220 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


which  grows  (before  its  final  decadence) 
extremely  ornate. 

The  need  for  fluting  the  cokimn  is  easily- 
explained.  Seen  in  its  out-of-door  setting 
in  the  vertical  plane  of  its  Order,  the  Greek 
coliunn  would  appear  as  a  thin,  fiat  surface 
without  sufficient  solidity  to  perform  its 
fimction  of  support,  were  it  not  for  the 
flutes,  the  peculiar  spacing  of  whose  ver- 
tical shadow-lines  forces  the  eye  to  inter- 
pret the  column  as  a  rounded  solid,  how- 
ever invisible  the  curvature  may  otherwise 
be. 

As  in  Greek  relief,  the  third  dimension 
is  not  suppressed,  but  abbreviated.  It 
exists  to  give  substantiality  to  the  content 
of   each  of  the  various  planes. 


BRYN    MAWR    NOTES 


OF     GREEK    ART 

221 

It  is  often  said  of  Greek  architecture  that 
it  has  no  method  of  suggesting  size  because 
the  members  of  the  Orders  maintain  such 
accurate  relative  proportion  that  there  is 
no  fixing  of  "scale."    So  far  was  this  accu- 
racy of  proportion  carried  that  correction 
was  made  for  the  apparent  diminution  of 
size  of  distant  objects  by  making  them  cor- 
respondingly larger  than  strict  ratio  de- 
manded, as  when  entablatures  topping  high 
columns  were  given  more  than  their  strict 
proportional  height.      (Cf.  Vitruvius  III, 
3,  13.)     Consequently,  by  eliminating  even 
that  clue  to  actual  size  which  the  diminu- 
tion due  to  actual  distance  from  the  eye 
might  have  furnished,  the  possibility  of 
judging  scale  was  wholly  removed.     This 
is  certainly  true;  but  it  is  also  true  that  if 
any  absolute  unit  of  measurement  could 
be  introduced,  an  apprehension  of  the  size 
of  every  part  would  follow,  precisely  be- 
cause of  this  constant  accuracy  of  relations 
between  the  elements.    If  it  is  recalled  that 
Greek  architecture  was  intended  for  public 

"Scale" 

AND    MONOGRAPHS 

I 

222 

ESTHETIC    BASIS 

"Contour" 

places,  it  will  be  evident  that  the  Greek 
colonnade  was  usually  seen  with  human 
beings  standing  or  moving  among  its  col- 
umns.    The  seen  relation  of  column-spac- 
ing to  the  width  of  men's  bodies,  and  of 
columns'  height  to  the  height  of  men,  sup- 
plies just  that  absolute  unit  of  measurement 
on  which  scale  depends.     We  may  under- 
stand from  this  why  Greek  taste  tolerated 
the  fixing  of  statues  between  the  columns 
on  the  top  step  of  a  temple  platform  (as  at 
Olympia)  or  the  amassing  of  statuary  in 
open  agora  and  temenos.     Just  because  of 
the  orderliness  of  Greek  ratios  a  human 
being  or  a  life-sized  statue  could  furnish 
scale  to  a  degree  wholly  impossible  in  other 
periods  and  styles. 

Greek  relief,  we  have  seen,  was  an  art 
mainly  of  contours.     If  the  insistence  on 
the  two-dimensional  quality  of  Greek  archi- 
tectural composition  is  justified,  it  should 
follow  that  the   Greek  architects  should 
have  been  extremely  sensitive  to  outline; 
and  this  is  notoriously  the  case.     The  cor- 
ner of  a  Grecian  temple  seen  against  a 
luminous  sky  should  be  a   revelation  to 

I 

BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 

OF     GREEK    ART 


every  modem  student.  The  broken  line 
from  step  to  akroterion  is  amazingly  clari- 
fying, in  that  it  so  clearly  distinguishes 
and  emphasises  every  member  of  the  Order. 
More  than  that,  it  helps  to  set  the  mass  of 
the  temple  in  equilibrium  and  stabilizes  the 
whole  structure.  But  again  it  is  essentially 
as  the  boimding-line  of  a  plane  surface  that 
this  comer  contour  works  on  us — as  one 
can  see  from  the  extraordinary  way  in 
which  its  effect  is  heightened  at  night  or 
against  a  sunset  sky,  when  the  temple  loses 
its  projection  and  solidity  and  flattens  to  a 
surface  in  silhouette. 

Since  its  effects  are  calculated  for  pres- 
entation in  a  plane,  what  should  have  been 
the  fate  of  the  classic  Orders  in  later  times 
when  the  great  discovery  of  architectiu-e  as 
an  art  of  three-dimensional  presentation 
had  been  made?  They  should  have  sunk 
to  an  ornamental  accessory  for  articulating 
facades  and  other  vertical  planes.  Actu- 
ally, as  early  as  imperial  Roman  times,  they 
began  to  be  used  as  attached  orders  with- 
out structural  importance;  and  though 
purely  Hellenic  structures  have  continued 


AND     MONOGRAPHS 


224 

ESTHETIC    BASIS 

An  un- 
favorable 
estimate 

to   be   built,   it   is   largely   as   decorative 
motives  that  the  forms  of  Greek  architec- 
ture persist  to-day.     Their  fate  was  thor- 
oughly appropriate  and  deserved. 

Like  Greek  painting  and  Greek  music/' 
Greek  architecture  marks  a  stage  of  in- 
complete development  in  the  evolution  of 
its  art  and,  like  them,  it  exhibits  the  most 
enviable  and  amazing  perfection  of  certain 
cardinal  esthetic  elements,  combined  with 
a  complete  ignorance  of  others  no  less  im- 
portant to  the  art  in  its  fuller  evolution. 

*     ♦     + 

I 

BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 

OF    GREEK    ART 


Where  mistakes  are  costly  and  produc- 
tion tedious,  patrons  and  artists  alike  step 
warily.  Printer's  ink  and  paper,  canvas 
and  oils  can  be  lavished,  their  cost  is  small 
restraint;  but  the  hewn  stones,  the  scaf- 
folds, and  the  vast  array  of  masons  make 
architectural  follies  too  prodigal  for  repeti- 
tion. For  this  reason,  though  we  may  write 
for  amusement  and  paint  for  pleasure,  we 
seldom  build  except  for  use.  Finally, 
though  poetry  can  turn  the  hills  upside 
down,  live  in  the  moon,  and  walk  on  thin 
crusts  of  water,  though  painting  can  re- 
make the  world  to  suit  itself,  architecture 
must  rest  a  stone  on  a  stone,  even  to  span 
a  void,  and  desist  when  the  formula  of 
gravitation  says  No. 

Here,  then,  are  three  considerations 
which  keep  architecture  within  conven- 
tional rounds:  cost  and  difficulty  of  pro- 
duction, practical  aim,  physical  limita- 
tions. Because  the  claims  of  these  three 
must  first  be  satisfied,  they  have  made 
tyrants  of  themselves  and  have  even  gone 


AND     MONOGRAPHS 


225 


Architec- 
ture as  an 
art  of  visual 
presenta- 
tion 


Three 

tyrants 


226 

EvSTHETIC    BASIS 

who  must 
be  over- 
thrown 

so  far  as  to  elevate  their  demands  into  a 
canon  of  architectural  beauty. 

Cost  has  declared:  "A  building  is 
beautiful  when  no  element  of  it  is  super- 
fluous." Practical  Aim  has  asserted:  "A 
building  is  beautiful  when  it  expresses  the 
use  for  which  it  was  made."  Physical 
Limitation  has  maintained:  "A  building 
is  beautiful  when  it  expresses  its  construc- 
tion." 

But  all  these  are  mere  tyramiy  of  mate- 
rialism and  have  little  or  nothing  to  do 
with  artistic  values.  At  most,  their  truth 
is  purely  negative,  for  it  may  be  that  if  a 
building  does  not  express  its  use  and  pur- 
pose, the  offense  against  our  practical  sense 
produces  an  esthetic  reaction,  and  if  a 
building  looks  as  if  it  were  supported  by 
columns  and  beams,  while  really  it  rests  on 
concealed  vaulting,  our  like  of  straightfor- 
ward dealing  and  our  displeasure  at  decep- 
tion may  influence  our  esthetic  judgment. 

For  years  I  have  tried  to  persuade  my- 
self that  my  pleasure  in  a  Gothic  cathedral 
was  derived  from  an  appreciation  of  the 
marvellous  balance  of  thrusts  and  strains, 

I 

BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 

OF     GREEK    ART 


that  I  approved  of  Roman  aqueducts  be- 
cause they  were  nothing  but  arches  reaching 
up  to  a  level  at  which  they  could  make 
water  flow  across  plain  and  valley  to  a 
far-off  town,  and  that  the  plan  of  a  Greek 
temple  was  a  perfect  thing  because  it 
showed  a  room  for  the  god's  image,  a  room 
for  the  adorant,  a  preparatory  vestibule, 
and  a  surrounding  portico  with  shelter 
from  sim  and  rain — ^just  the  things  that 
were  needful,  and  nothing  more.  And  all 
the  while  secretly  I  knew  that  I  was  per- 
suading myself  with  an  intellectual  theory 
and  that  the  whole  thing  was  simple  self- 
deception,  that  I  was  taking  a  contributory 
element  for  sole  cause  and  criterion,  and 
that  I  liked  Gothic  cathedrals  and  Roman 
aqueducts  and  Greek  temples  for  much 
more  simple  and  less  round-about  reasons, 
that  I  liked  them  not  because  they  ex- 
pressed this  or  that,  but  because  their 
looks  appealed  directly  to  me.  I  liked  them 
not  merely  for  their  intentions,  but  for 
what  they  were — so  much  stone  in  such  and 
such  shapes.     In  fact,  just  as  I  Hked  music 


AND    MONOGRAPHS 


228 


before  we 
can  pass  on 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


for  what  I  heard,  I  liked  architecture  for 
what  I  saw. 

I  suspect  that  most  of  us  must  pass 
through  some  similar  experience  before  we 
are  prepared  to  accept  any  of  the  theories 
now  to  be  developed.  As  long  as  we  are 
persuaded  that  the  esthetic  of  architecture 
is  based  on  materialistic  tyrannies  such  as 
utility  and  economy,  we  relegate  archi- 
tecture to  a  different  category  from  that  of 
the  other  arts.  No  doubt,  an  architect 
who  does  not  practise  economy  or  empha- 
sise utility  will  run  the  risk  of  being 
rightly  refused  employment.  But  this  is 
merely  to  say  that  an  architect  should  be 
a  good  engineer,  and  is  not  at  all  the  same 
thing  as  to  maintain  that  engineering  and 
architecture  are  one  and  identical.  I 
should  like  to  see  engineering  defined  as  the 
science,  and  architecture  as  the  art,  of  con- 
struction; because,  if  once  we  can  dismiss 
the  science  by  fully  allowing  its  necessity 
and  importance,  we  shall  have  an  oppor- 
tunity to  discover  what  the  art  is. 

Engineering  was  a  vital  matter  to  the 
builders  of  the  pyramids,  who  seem  to  have 


BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 


OF    GREEK    ART 

229 

mastered  its  elements  so  well  that  their 
mechanical  adroitness  has  rather  puzzled 
succeeding   generations.      But   does   that 
fact  give  us  any  hint  of  the  real  reason 
why  the  pyramids  impress  us  as  they  do? 
Surely  the  primary  reason  is  because  a 
simple  and  elementar}^  shape  is  presented 
in  a  gigantic  size.     And  that  is  all  there  is 
to  it.     The  rest — the  difficulties  of  con- 
struction, the  nearly  5000  years  through 
which  they  have  endured,  the  desert  sand 
on  which  they  rise,  our  imaginative  and 
historical    impressions    of    Pharaoh-ruled 
ancient  Egypt,  our  literary  enthusiasm  for 
Cleopatra  who  had  nothing  whatever  to 
do    with    the    pyramids— all    contribute, 
joining  and  fusing  themselves  to  a  complex 
emotional  reaction;    but  they  are  not  the 
fundamental  of  the  architectural  emotion, 
to  which,  indeed,  they  are  in  one  sense 
thoroughly  irrelevant. 

In  late  Gothic  fan-vaulting,  the  visible 
elements  express  a  structiure  which  is  not 
merely  physically  absent,  but  is  physically 
impossible.     The  ceiling  in  its  periphery 
rests  upon  the  ribs,  the  ribs  rest  upon  the 

AND     MONOGRAPHS 

I 

230 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


central  ornament,  and  this  in  turn  rests 
upon — ^nothing!  Were  the  forms  clumsy, 
the  lines  oppressive,  or  disconnected,  the 
spectator's  emotion,  I  imagine,  would  be 
one  of  terror  and  fear;  but  because  the 
lines  are  stable  and  buoyant  and  strive  up- 
ward, our  emotion  is  one  of  delight.  Mass 
has  lost  its  oppression;  it  floats  upward  like 
the  Walhalla  architecture  of  the  thunder- 
cloud. We  know  it  cannot  be,  yet  we  see 
that  it  is.  Is  it  not  captious  and  pedantic 
to  complain  that  Henry  VII 's  Chapel  is 
not  good  architecture  because  it  violates 
a  fundamental  principle  of  the  art  ?  Rather 
we  should  reconsider  the  validity  of  our 
assumed  principle  in  the  face  of  such  a  re- 
futation of  its  authority.  Again,  what  of 
the  dome  of  St.  Sophia  that  does  not  seem 
to  come  down  with  any  weight  upon  its 
four  pendentives?  Let  us  not  insist  that 
good  architecture  must  express  its  construc- 
tion. Let  us  say  that  to  express  structure 
is  one  of  architecture's  sources  of  appeal, 
and  that  good  architecture  accordingly  ex- 
presses structure  vividly,  immediately, 
appeahngly,  stimulatingly,  what  you  will, 


BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 


OF    GREEK    ART 


231 


if  only  you  will  leave  the  art  free  rein  to  do 
what  it  chooses  with  its  own  esthetic  de- 
vices ! 

What  of  the  fagade  of  St.  Mark's  in 
Venice?  If  we  removed  everything  that 
did  not  contribute  to  constructional  neces- 
sity or  practical  use,  I  have  a  very  shrewd 
idea  of  the  result;  for  the  structure  is 
based  on  pre-Gothic  methods  of  building 
while  the  ornamentation  is  Gothic.  Is 
there  not  something  of  bUnd  obstinacy  in 
persisting  that  the  Gothic  ornamentation 
is  therefore  an  impleasant  accretion,  be 
cause  it  is  structurally  irrelevant? 

Or  of  what  use  in  architecture  is  colour, 
except  when  it  helps  to  emphasise  struc- 
ture and  utility?  None;  therefore  it  is 
really  irrelevant?  Architecture  calls  in  the 
arts  of  design  to  make  her  finished  work 
more  pleasing?  They  are  accessory,  not 
an  integral  part  of  architecture?  Blind 
obstinacy  again.  Because  a  building  will 
stand  as  well,  in  whatever  way  its  walls  be 
''decorated";  because  a  green  arch  will 
last  as  long  as  a  red  one;  because  a  mosaic 
is  in  the  surface,  and  not  in  the  mechanics 


AND  MONOGRAPHS 


232 

ESTHETIC    BASIS 

A  definition 

rather 
obvious 

of  support;  because  colour  can  be  put  on 
after  the  work  of  building  is  ended;  be- 
cause of  a  host  of  reasons  such  as  these, 
colour  is  dubbed  irrelevant  to  architecture. 
True,  since  colour  and  construction  are  in 
different  categories,  colour  may  be  wholly 
irrelevant  to  engineering;  but  why  irrele- 
vant to  architecture?  why  accessory  just 
because,  in  the  making,  it  is  usually  sub- 
sequent? 

May  there  not  be  a  more  purely  esthetic 
aspect  of  architecture,  in  which  it  appears 
to  us  as  an  emotional  art  in  three  dimen- 
sions which  employs  pure  forms  in  a  visual 
appeal,  working  on  our  susceptibilities  of 
mass,  outline,  colour,  and  pattern,  our  mus- 
cular sense  of  balance,  of  strain,  of  freedom 
of  motion  and  confinement,  of  size  and 
weight  and  power,  and  embodying  all  these 
in  a  construction  whose  right  to  existence, 
because  of  its  human  utility  and  structural 
sanity,  our  reason  approves? 

By  such  a  definition  I  refer  to  nothing 
abstruse  or  over-sophisticated.  A  high, 
black  wall  projecting  above  us  in  a  narrow 
street  with  squat  overhanging  masses  is 

I 

BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 

OF     GREEK    ART 


terrifying  even  when  our  reason  assures  us 
that  it  cannot  fall.  A  colonnaded  street 
like  that  of  Palmyra,  with  its  perspective 
narrowing  toward  a  vanishing  point,  gives 
us  a  sense  of  reach  and  distance  for  which 
the  actual  linear  extension  seems  no  ade- 
quate warrant.  The  vertical  lines  of  rib- 
bing and  grooving  in  a  Gothic  pier  give  an 
immediate  reaHsation  of  height  which  a 
smooth  shaft  would  not  impart.  A  great 
space  easily  crowned,  like  St.  Sophia  with 
its  dome  on  pendentives,  gives  us  a  sense 
of  freedom  to  move;  while  the  hall  of  a 
thousand  and  one  columns  underground, 
the  Ben-bir-direk,  makes  a  nightmare  of 
the  thought  of  bodily  movement  through 
space.  It  is  with  a  pleasurable  confusion 
that  the  eye  loses  itself  in  the  weltered 
glory  of  Gothic  rose-windows  filled  with 
stained  glass,  and  an  unconfused  self- 
certainty  with  which  we  greet  the  picture- 
less  sharp  outlines  of  a  Greek  temple 
against  the  sky.  These  are  simple,  almost 
grossly  simple,  examples  of  emotions  to 
which  we  all  yield,  because  they  are  not 
supplied  by  us.  but  to  us,  being  inherent  in 


AND     MONOGRAPHS 


234 

ESTHETIC    BASIS 

yet  little- 
heeded 

the  very  lines,  surfaces,  bulk,  and  colour  of 
the  things  at  which  we  are  looking.     Here, 
as  in  other  arts,  pure  form  is  at  work,  giv- 
ing us  the  primar}^  emotions  to  which  all 
OUT  sophications  of  historical,  mathemat- 
ical, cultural,  and  critical  appreciations  or 
associations  are  accessory. 

I 

BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 

OF    GREEK    ART 


What  then  are  these  pure  fonns  of  archi- 
tecture? 

All  the  fornis  for  painting  and  sculpture 
seem  to  belong  to  architecture  as  well;  but 
because  they  are  not  so  obviously  made  to 
fuse  with  a  represented  object,  they  cannot 
appeal  to  us  so  strongly.  They  remain 
more  nearly  in  a  state  of  pure  form — con- 
crete enough,  since  they  are  exemplified  in 
stone  or  wood  or  plaster,  but  not  merged 
in  something  other  than  themselves.  In 
Ueu  of  imitations  and  illusions  of  real  ob- 
jects on  which  these  forms  are  overlaid, 
architecture  shows  us  only  certain  con- 
ventional entities — ^simple  elements  such  as 
columns,  capitals,  triglyphs,  piers,  groins, 
dosserets,  or  composite  elements  such  as 
porticoes  and  blind-stories.  Perhaps — as 
was  suggested  previously — ^we  can  here  dis- 
cern a  reason  why  architectural  tradition 
clings  so  tenaciously  to  its  own  artificial 
creations,  such  as  its  five  classic  Orders  with 
all  their  rigid  specifications  of  proportion 
and  detail.     For  if  columns  and  capitals 


235 


AND     MONOGRAPHS 


An  analysis 
such  as  we 
have 

Applied  to 
the  other 
arts  is  the 
right 
method 
here  also. 
It  is  at- 
tempted in 
the  follow- 
ing pages 
and  there- 
with brings 
to  an  end 
our  study 
of  the 
various 
Greek  arts 


236 

ESTHETIC    BASIS 

mtist  be  shaped  just  so,  and  not  otherwise, 
they  acquire  something  of  the  definite  in- 
dividual reaUty  of  a  product  of  nature. 
A  cohinin  seems  to  be  a  column,  almost  as 
a  dog  is  a  dog  or  a  tree  is  a  tree.    The  archi- 
tectural elements  become  part  of  the  world 
of   our   ordinary   experience,   There   may 
therefore  be  a  closer  parallel  than  we  should 
have  thought  between  a  painted  pattern 
expressing  itself  on  a  landscape  and  an 
architectural  pattern  expressing  itself  on  a 
classic    structure.      Both    landscape    and 
classic  Orders  are  repeated  from  the  famil- 
iar forms  of  our  visual  experience.     And 
the  parallel  with  sculpture  is  even  closer. 
Where  the  sculptor  imitates  living  objects, 
the  architect  imitates  the  objects  of  a  tra- 
ditional world  of  recognised  shapes.     Both 
sculpture  and  architecture  are  representing 
something   other   than   what    (materially 
considered)  they  actually  are. 

In  saying  that  architecture  employs  the 
pure  forms  of  painting  and  sculpture,  I  of 
course  am  not  referring  to  the  familiar  fact 
that  architecture  uses  these  arts  for  dec- 
oration.    I  mean  that  a  building's  fagade 

I 

BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 

OF    GREEK    ART 

237 

may  exhibit  pattern,  balance  of  masses, 
visual   guiding  lines,   just   as   a  painting 
might  do,  and  employ  flow  or  break  of 
outline,  suggestion  of  weight  and  resistance 
and  balanced  strain,   just  as  a  piece  of 
sculpture  might. 

But  in  addition  to  these  now  familiar 
forms,  architecture  has  her  specific  oppor- 
tunities to  work  upon  our  emotions.     We 
are  always  external  to  sculpture,  but  the 
works  of  architecture  enclose  us  spatially, 
hem  us  in  and  ring  us  roimd  with  vast 
masses  of  stone  many  times  our  height  and 
weight.     Not  only  do  we  crane  our  heads, 
focus  our  eyes  for  distance,  perform  actual 
physical  exertion  in  moving  from  point  to 
point;  but  we  are  at  the  mercy  of  sugges- 
tions of  confinement,  freedom  of  movement, 
oppression,    physical   danger.      Our   eyes 
travel  up  with  us  easily  to  vast  heights,  or 
struggle    hopelessly    over    the    horizontal 
barriers  which  keep  us  down.     We  have 
vast  cisterns  of  air  to  breathe,  or  our  lungs 
gasp  under  the  illusion  that  we  are  closely 
shut  in.     There  is,  indeed,  an  entire  range 
of  bodily  experiences,  for  the  most  part  not 

AND    MONOGRAPHS 

I 

238 

ESTHETIC    BASIS 

very  proininent  in  our  consciousness,  to 
which  the  formal  suggestions  of  architec- 
ture may  appeal.     Such  are  our  sense  of 
poise  and  bodily  balance,  of  muscular  self- 
control,  accuracy  of  movement,  lightness 
and  agility,  feelings  of  strength  and  self- 
assurance,  freedom  of  breath,  even  such 
vague  bodily  states  as  accompany  security 
of  footing,  indifference  to  external  forces, 
determination  and  endurance,  boldness  and 
fatigue. 

Thus  analysed  and  put  into  words,  the 
sensations  of  which  I  have  been  spealdng 
as  aroused  in  us  by  architectural  forms 
seem  artificial  and  unreal.     Actually  they 
lie  so  lightly  on  us  that  qua  physiological 
conditions  in  us  we  are  seldom  even  con- 
scious of  their  existence,  but  tend  to  ascribe 
them  as  actual  qualities  to  the  architec- 
tural object.     But  I  do  not  wish  to  insist 
on  the  psychological  or  physiological  mech- 
anism of  artistic  emotion.    The  essential 
thing  for  my  purpose  is  the  recognition 
that  what  I  have  called  artistic  form  ap- 
peals directly  to  certain  sensibilities  in  us, 
and  leads  us  to  ascribe  to  the  work  of  art 

I 

BRYN    MAWR    NOTES 

OF     GREEK    ART 

239 

emotional  values  with  which  we  should 
otherwise  have   no   acquaintance.      That 
these  emotions  or  qualities  are  in  the  build- 
ing is  precisely  the  opposite  of  my  meaning. 
These  things  are  in  us,  and  it  is  to  our 
sense  of  them  that  architectural  form  can 
appeal.     When  we  exclaim  at  the  lightness 
of  crocket  and  finiial,  there  is  no  gravita- 
tional lightness  in  the  carven  stone.     We 
are  apt  to  speak  as  though  tracery  were 
done    in   pumice   and   wall-bases  in  soHd 
ore.      A  chisel  may  remove  only  a  few 
ounces  from  the  actual  weight  of  a  stone, 
yet  the  stone  may  thereby  become  so  light 
that  it  almost  floats  in  air  from  its  own 
buoyancy;   for  the  sense  of  its  lightness  is 
in  ourselves.     The  common  sense  behind 
traditional  ways  of  speech  bears  testimony 
that  these  are  familiar  human  experiences 
and  not  mere  sophistications. 

But  we  ascribe  the  lightness  to  the  stone. 
The  appeal  is  to  our  own  sense  of  equiUb- 
rium  or  freedom  of  movement  or  whatso- 
ever it  may  be;   but  what  we  feel  in  our- 
selves we  read  into  the  objects  which  we 
are  contemplating.     Just  as,  in  painting, 

AND     MONOGRAPHS 

I 

240 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


our  trivial  actions  are  fathered  upon  an 
imaginary  spatial  world  and  thereby  ac- 
quire importance  and  magnitude,  so  in 
architectiire  our  reactions,  of  no  moment 
in  themselves,  when  they  serve  to  vitalise 
a  towering  mass  of  stable  stone,  arouse 
emotions  that  can  overwhelm  us  by  their 
scale  and  power. 

How  intentionally  do  architects  employ 
these  emotional  forms?  That  must  depend 
on  the  architect  and  the  period.  The 
great  masters  of  the  Renaissance  and,  most 
of  all,  of  the  succeeding  *' decadence"  or 
Baroque  period,  made  a  far-reaching  study 
of  these  forms  (though  they  did  not  so 
call  them,  or  so  philosophise  about  them). 
The  restlessness,  the  turgid  pomp,  the 
straining  after  greatness  which  charac- 
terised the  Baroque  are  not  accidents  or  in- 
cidents of  stylistic  evolution,  but  inten- 
tional emotional  qualities.  Nineteenth 
century  criticism,  with  its  materialistic 
and  "scientific"  penchant,  saw  in  the 
volutes  and  scrolls  and  urns  and  super- 
imposed pediments  and  the  "clumsy" 
masses  of  many  an  Italian  Baroque  fagade 


BRYN    MAWR    NOTES 


OF    GREEK    ART 


only  an  unnecessary  waste  of  material  with 
irrelevant  ornaments  run  wild  and  obscur- 
ing structural  design.  But  that  is  to  judge 
from  parti  pris,  to  beg  the  question;  for  it 
assumes  that  the  aim  of  good  architecture 
is  to  express  structure  and  purpose  with 
economy,  whereas  the  Baroque  architects 
were  trying  to  express  something  quite  dif- 
ferent. They  were  not  trying  to  call  atten- 
tion to  questions  of  construction  and  engi- 
neering, but  to  work  upon  the  human  emo- 
tion of  the  passers-by. 

There  are  other  critics  who  complain 
that  these  emotional  effects  are  melo- 
dramatic, that  Baroque  greatness  is  mere 
bombast  and  pretentiousness,  that  the  in- 
sistence on  effect  is  tedious  and  out  of  place 
in  a  monumental  art.  This  is  a  very  dif- 
ferent angle  of  attack.  It  appeals  to  the 
canon  of  taste  and  with  this  I  have  no  in- 
tention of  taking  issue;  for  I  do  not  wish  to 
ask  what  emotions  architecture  ought  to 
evoke,  but  merely  to  consider  what  emo- 
tions architecture  does  and  can  evoke  and 
how  this  is  done.  For  that  purpose  the 
Baroque  is  a  very  good  period  to  study,^^ 


AND    MONOGRAPHS 


242 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


because  it  is  not  interested  in  monumental 
calm  but  in  the  excitation  of  emotions 
whose  presence  and  character  are  easy  to 
detect. 

We  are  awed  by  the  contemplation  of 
mere  bulk  and  size;  for  we  make  the  com- 
parison with  ourselves  and  realise  our  own 
ineffectiveness.  The  contrast  with  our 
own  size  and  weight  is  essential  to  this  re- 
sult. Hence  it  is  architecture's  business, 
if  she  washes  to  produce  the  emotion,  to  see 
to  it  that  we  shall  make  the  comparison. 
She  must  give  us  "scale,"  must  furnish  us 
with  a  unit  whose  size  relative  to  otirselves 
we  know  and  can  appreciate,  and  make  this 
unit  operative  as  a  unit  of  measurement 
which  we  are  induced  to  lay  off  and  repeat 
until  we  become  aware  how  many  times  it 
is  contained  in  the  architectural  surround- 
ings. If  that  repetition  appear  intermin- 
able or  confusedly  great,  the  impression  of 
size  will  be  all  the  stronger. 

Artaxei'xes  IMnemon  built  himself  a 
colossal  throne-room  in  his  palace  at  Susa. 
Its  appearance  of  size  was  not  derived 
solely  from  the  great  linear  dimensions  of 


BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 


OF    GREEK    ART 

the  floor  and  walls,  but  from  the  persistent 
repetition  of  great  coluinns  whose  verti- 
cality  was  emphasized  by  the  grooves  which 
ran  unbroken  from  the  bases  to  the  great 
bull-headed  capitals  bearing  the  ceiUng- 
beams.  Wherever  one  stood,  one  of  these 
columns  rose  beside  him  and  stretched 
away  above  him,  so  that  a  direct  com- 
parison between  human  stature  and  the 
loftiness  of  the  room  was  inevitable. 
Round  about  on  all  sides  were  these  same 
columns,  like  the  trees  of  a  forest  shutting 
in  the  view,  endless  vertical  lines,  all  the 
same,  and  all  enormous.  Here  was  great 
height  immediately  to  be  apprehended, 
and  endlessly  and  bewilderingly  repeated. 
Truly,  great  would  have  seemed  the  king 
who  throned  in  such  a  room  and  com- 
manded its  architects  and  builders. 

The  interior  of  the  nave  of  St.  Peter's 
in  Rome  gives  no  such  sense  of  vastness. 
The  classic  Order  there  shows  the  same 
elements,  and  the  same  relations  between 
those  elements,  that  we  might  see  in  many 
other  buildings.  Standing  in  the  open 
floor-space,  we  have  httle  from  which  to 


AND     MONOGRAPH  vS 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


measure  size  in  relation  to  ourselves.  What 
unit  we  may  derive,  is  repeated  in  a  quiet 
and  ordered  way  for  a  certain  number  of 
times.  With  no  immediate  apprehension  of 
size,  and  no  uncounted  repetition  of  great- 
ness, we  have  little  but  our  reason  to  tell 
us  that  we  are  in  a  hall  of  vast  extent  and 
height. 

I  have  taken  sense  of  size  as  an  example, 
because  it  is  easy  to  see  that  it  depends  not 
wholly  on  actual  dimensions  but  on  some- 
thing in  the  arrangement  and  distribution 
of  the  architectural  elements.  It  is  the 
readiest  and  most  persuasive  instance  of 
the  effect  which  a  purely  formal  principle 
may  have  upon  our  attitude  toward  a 
building.  But  it  is  easy  to  convince  our- 
selves that  formal  laws  play  a  very  ex- 
tensive role  in  our  most  every-day  impres- 
sions of  architecture.  Buildings  are  "top- 
heavy,"  "crooked,"  "forbidding,"  "at- 
tractive," "sombre,"  "full  of  energy," 
"magnificent,"  "stiff"  (to  use  only  a  lay- 
man's vocabulary  and  a  layman's  range  of 
emotions).  Why  do  they  give  us  these 
feelings,  and  why  are  most  of  these  epi- 


BRYN    MAWR    NOTES 


OF     GREEK    ART 


thets  derived  from  analogies  with  our  own 
bodily  conditions?  If  we  ask  ourselves 
these  questions,  we  shall  little  by  little 
come  to  think  of  architecture  not  as  mere 
ornamented  engineering  but  as  embodied 
emotion  of  a  very  peculiar  sort,  a  new 
language  speaking  to  us  very  directly  and 
very  intimately. 

If  we  ask  whether  these  forms  reside  in 
any  special  part  (as  in  the  mechanics  or 
the  linear  relations  or  the  chiaroscuro),  we 
shall  find  that  it  is  not  possible  to  assign 
one  formal  role  to  the  structural  elements 
and  a  different  role  to  the  "accessory"  ele- 
ments of  ornamentation  and  decoration. 
Effects  of  line  may  be  due  both  to  structure 
and  to  carving  or  colouring;  surfaces  may 
be  structural  units  or  merely  coloured  areas 
or  both  at  once;  ornament  which  could 
ha\e  been  dispensed  with  from  the  point 
of  \'iew  of  the  mechanical  structure,  may 
be  of  the  utmost  importance  for  the  de- 
sign— like  the  great  S-shaped  scrolls  of 
Santa  Maria  della  Salute  in  Venice,  whose 
shape  is  not  essential  to  their  function. 
The  form  of  the  muUions  in  the  window- 


AND  MONOGRAPHS 


246 

ESTHETIC    BASIS 

tracery  may  be  the  most  telling  source  of 
emotional  effect  which  a  stylistic  period 
may  have  produced.      Architectural  his- 
torians sometimes  resent  a  division  of  Eng- 
lish Gothic  into  geometric,  flowing,  and 
perpendicular  periods  on  the  basis  of  win- 
dow-tracery forms;  but  is  it  really  so  super- 
ficial and  amateurish  as  they  would  make 
out?    We  can  date  just  as  accurately  from 
hood-mouldings  and  drips  or  technique  of 
buttressing  or  vaulting  bosses  or  an3rthing 
else;  but  it  is  not  a  question  of  identifying 
the  period  or  analysing  the  style,  but  of 
naming  these  according  to  their  most  ef- 
fective characteristic.      And  this   is  well 
epitomized  in  the  tracery. 

Ornament  or  detail  can  be  considered 
iiTclevant  only  when  it  has  no  function  to 
perform,  and  inappropriate  only  when  its 
effect  is  inappropriate  in  the  whole  effect  of 
the  building.     It  may  be  structurally  su- 
perfluous and  yet  formally  essential.    Even 
a  false  fagade  may  be  pardoned  when  it 
does  not  aim  to  deceive.     If  the  Tuscan 
builders  intended  to  fool  the  passer-by  into 
thinking   that   there   was   a   greater   and 

I 

BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 

OF    GREEK    ART 


higher  church  behind  the  facade  than  they 
had  really  built  there,  they  must  have  been 
simple-minded  in  crediting  the  public 
neither  with  curiosity  nor  with  legs.  But 
if  they  meant  merely  to  make  a  fine  front 
to  their  church,  as  one  might  use  gold  and 
leather  and  make  a  fine  cover  to  a  book, 
their  fault  was  wholly  pardonable;  for 
they  missed  merely  the  refinement  of  taste 
which  makes  a  fagadal  design  appropriate 
by  deriving  it  out  of  the  exigencies  of  the 
nave  and  aisles  which  are  there  terminated. 
Again,  St.  Peter's  has  a  "false"  dome  for 
appearance's  sake !  But  what  Is  that  save 
an  admission  that  the  outside  and  inside 
surfaces  of  the  same  curvilinear  form  were 
felt  not  to  be  appropriate  to  both  exterior 
and  interior  at  once?  If  one  shape  suited 
within  and  a  different  one  suited  without 
so  build  it !  There  is  no  deception  intended ; 
and  the  structural  waste  and  additional 
cost  are  part  of  the  price  of  the  intended 
effect.  Only  if  an  equivalent  effect  could 
have  been  produced  without  resorting  to 
such  a  device,  would  exchequer  and  good 
sense  be  right  in  protesting. 


247 


AND     MONOGRAPHS 


248 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


So  considered,  ornament  will  be  seen  to 
be  not  an  accessory  or  separable  element, 
but  an  integral  part  of  the  builder's  art. 
For  this  reason  it  will  often  tend  away  from 
pictorial  representation  in  order  that  it 
may  be  accepted  in  a  more  intimate  union 
with  the  other  elements. 

Greek  architectural  ornament  was  largely 
drawn  from  forms  of  leaf  and  flower.  In 
the  cymatia,  these  leaf-forms  are  so  con- 
ventionalised as  to  make  their  botanical 
prototypes  unrecognisable.  This  is  partly 
due  to  the  fact  that  they  were  inheritances, 
with  a  long  history  that  leads  to  the  Orient 
and  Egypt.  No  ordinary  eye  can  see  a 
flower  in  the  volutes  of  the  Ionic  capital 
or  a  calyx  in  the  egg-and-dart  on  its 
echinus;  yet  these  are  very  probably  the 
ultimate  ancestors.  But  Greek  architec- 
ture itself  contributed  to  conventionalising 
its  decorative  forms.  Though  the  acanthus 
leaves  of  the  Corinthian  capital  are  often 
carved  with  very  considerable  fidelity  to 
botanical  prototypes,  their  whole  arrange- 
ment and  profile  prohibit  any  representa- 
tional illusion.     And  Greek  architecture 


BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 


OF    GREEK    ART 


was  quite  content  to  keep  its  traditional 
conventionalisations  rather  than  to  dis- 
card them  for  new  and  more  imitative 
versions. 

At  times,  more  representational  ele- 
ments threatened  to  intrude.  The  Doric 
columns,  it  will  be  remembered,  hold  up 
their  oppressive  load  and  with  an  ahnost 
human  analogy  give,  in  their  entasis,  a 
visual  suggestion  that  the  inanimate  stone 
felt  the  strain  of  bearing  up  architrave, 
frieze,  and  cornice.  They  are  like  Atlas 
holding  the  broad  sky  on  his  shoulders. 
The  suggestion  to  carve  these  supports  into 
the  likeness  of  human  figures  lay  therefore 
palpably  close  at  hand.  Now  the  basic 
impulse  may  have  been  a  tendency  to 
ascribe  human  characteristics  to  inanimate 
objects,  to  look  on  a  column  as  though  it 
were  a  living  being;  but  the  formal  pur- 
pose is  sUghtly  different,  for  on  being  shown 
a  fictitious  strain-under-pressure  in  the 
column,  by  analogy  with  our  own  feelings 
at  supporting  a  heavy  burden,  we  experi- 
ence an  emotional,  and  not  merely  a  rea- 
soned or  intellectual  appreciation  of  the 


AND    MONOGRAPHS 


250 

ESTHETIC    BASIS 

piirpose  and  structural  function  of  the  col- 
umn.     And    when   the    Greeks    actually 
carved  giants  bowed  under  the  superin- 
cumbent load  or  maidens  standing  strong- 
hipped  and  stiffly  straight  with  the  burden 
on  their  heads  they  may  have  diminished 
rather  than  heightened  the  effect.      If  a 
more  or  less  abstract  form  can  suggest 
physical  strain,  we  lose  instead  of  gaining 
when  we  substitute  for  that  abstract  form 
a  concrete  symbol  borrowed  from  the  actual 
world.     Probably  this  is  so  because  a  sym- 
bol works  through  the  intellectual  under- 
standing, while  pure  form  works  through 
immediate    sensuous    apprehension. ^^       I 
take  it  to  be  an  astonishing  instance  of  the 
power  of  artistic  instinct  that,  without  ever 
very    thoroughly    reasoning    the    matter, 
architectural  taste  has  steadily  contested 
the  repetition  of  this  experiment  and  has 
tended  to  eliminate  representational  shapes 
from  every  important  structural  position. 

Of  a  similar  sort  is  the  insistence' that 
vegetable  fonns  should  be  conventional- 
ised, and  that  actual  picturing  of  the  seen 
world  must   be   confined   to   structurally 

I 

BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 

OF    GREEK    ART 

251 

minor  surfaces.      But  it  will  be  objected 
that  the  Greeks  carved  and  painted  pic- 
tures for  their  metopes;  that  the  Panath- 
enaic  frieze  of  the  Parthenon  is  one  of  the 
great    achievements    of    sculpture;     that 
Byzantine  architecture  revelled  in  mosaics; 
that  Romanesque  and  Gothic  architecture 
are  full   of  carven  beasts   and  statuary. 
Clearly  the  prejudice  against  mixing  the 
representational    with    the    unrepresenta- 
tional  is  not  very  thorough  or  far-reaching. 
The  real  objection,  I  think,  is  not  against 
combining  representational  with  unrepre- 
sentational  art,  but  against  allowing  rep- 
resentation to  obscure  or  destroy  formal 
values.   Variegations  of  colour  (apart  from 
what  they  depict)  have  an  important  formal 
fimction.     Colour  is  not  an  accessory  or  a 
luxury  to  architecture.     How  much  does 
not  the  little  Place  des  Vosges  in  Paris  owe 
merely  to  the  red  of  its  bricks,  which  charms 
us  so  simply  and  cheerily  after  the  arid 
grey-whites    of    Champs-Elysian    preten- 
tiousness in  stone?    And  are  we  not  carried 
deep  into  the  very  emotional  core  and 
spirit  of  mediaevalism  merely  by  the  colours 

AND    MONOGRAPHS 

I 

252 

ESTHETIC    BASIS 

of  a  Byzantine  interior  or  by  that  lavish 
use  of  reds  and  blues  and  purples  and  greens 
and  golds  which  so  often  covered  the  entire 
front  of  Gothic  churches,  but  whose  original 
presence  we  of  to-day  are  always  forgetting 
because  we  see  only  the  "architecture,"  the 
building  without  the  colour?    But  colour 
can  even  affect  the  structural  aspect.   Find 
a  blank  wall  and  cover  the  upper  third  with 
patches  of  brilliant  colour  if  you  would  see 
its   mere  physical  weight  lessened.      Or 
consider   the    arrangement   of   horizontal 
bands  of  ever-Hghtening  colour  on  the  Pal- 
ace of  the  Doges.     Or  look  again  at  the 
Panathenaic    frieze    to    notice    how    the 
sculptural  lines  lead  the  eye  along  and  bind 
the  Parthenon  about,  as  a  ribbon  holds  a 
bundle  together.   Again,  colour  is  a  magnet 
to  the  eye  and  can  bend  back  our  heads 
and  take  our  vision  aloft  quite  as  quickly 
and  well  as  the  guiding  lines  of  a  moulded 
pier  or  the  branching  ribs  of  a  vaulting. 

Thus  the  mere  occurrence  of  carving  and 
colour  need  not  obscure  or  destroy  the  for- 
mal values,  but  may  itself  perform  a  formal 
office.  There  remains  the  difficulty  that  this 

I 

BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 

OF    GREEK    ART 

253 

colour  or  carving  is  not  mere  colour  and 
line,  but  makes  pictures  of  things  irrelevant 
to  the  architectural  structure  of  the  build- 
ing.     In  mediaeval  times,  these  pictures 
were  part  of  an  attempt  to  wed  understand- 
ing with  architectural  emotion.   When  the 
eye  had  imparted  directly  the  emotions  in- 
herent in  the  wonderfully  lined  and  bal- 
anced, shadowed  and  coloured  structure, 
and   aroused  through   architectural  form 
something   emotionally   comparable   to   a 
sense  of  striving  and  attainment,  patience 
and   perseverance,  wealth   and   rejoicing, 
gloom  and  terror  and  triumph,  it  was  the 
turn  of  the  intellect  to  read  the  illustrated 
book  of  saints  and  martyrs,  angels  and 
devils,  with  their  recollection  of  trials  and 
virtuous  deeds,  and  to  wed  these  emotions 
of  the  intellect  with  those  simpler,  more 
primitive  ones  of  the  unreasoning  appre- 
hension.    In  Greece,  too,  the  contempla- 
tion of  heroic  adventures  and  divine  legends 
was  intended  to  satisfy  the  reasoning  curi- 
osity and  to  offer  its  more  sophisticated 
appeal  as  a  supplement  to  the  direct  work- 
ing of  architectural  form.     For,  in  both 

AND    MONOGRAPHS 

I 

254 

ESTHETIC    BASIS 

cases,  architecture  was  toiling  in  the  in- 
terest of  reUgion;  and  the  ultimate  channel 
of  its  emotions  lay  beyond  its  own  domain. 
We  have  seen  that  the  initial  barrier  to 
an  understanding  of  architectural  esthetics 
lies  in  our  own  insistent  assumption  that 
the  art  is  governed  by  practical  utility, 
whereas  insofar  as  architecture   is  an  art 
it  has  almost  nothing  at  all  to  do  with 
practical  utility.     This  dogma  will  alwaj^s 
be  hotly  contested.     "Is  not  architecture 
the  art  of  building,  and  are  not  buildings 
primarily    dwelling-places    with    walls    to 
give  shelter,  roofs  to  exclude  rain,  windows 
to  let   in  light,   and   plans   arranged  for 
specific  human  needs?  and  do  these  not 
depend  absolutely  on  the  practical  laws  of 
engineering  and  gravitational  mechanics? 
How  then  can  you  say  that  it  has  nothing 
to  do  with  utility?"      But  this  is  merely 
to  say  that  architecture  is  a  practical  activ- 
ity first  and  an  art  only  secondarily.    In- 
sofar as  it  is  an  art,  it  has  almost  nothing 
to  do  with  these  practical  demands.     As 
an  art,  it  is  a  spatial  presentation  of  solid 
forms,   aiming  at    no   imitative  pictorial 

I 

BRYN     MAWR     NOTES 

OF     GREEK    ART 

255 

illusion,  but  appealing  primarily  to  our 
gravitational  sensibilities  and  our  powers 
of  spatial  apprehension  and  secondarily  to 
certain  activities  of  visual  comparison  and 
construction  which  we  call  geometric 
when  they  are  viewed  by  our  intellect,  but 
for  which  we  have  no  good  name  (unless  it 
be  Artistic  Pure-Forms)  when  they  are  ap- 
prehended through  oiu:  esthetic  sensibility. 

''But,"  I  hear  some  one  say,  "you  must 
be  a  good  engineer  to  be  a  good  architect," 
or  again,  "this  so-called  esthetic  architec- 
ture is  all  very  well  on  paper;  but  wait  till 
you  try  building  it,"  or,  "when  a  city  orders 
a  municipal  court-house,  does  it  want 
spatial  presentations  and  appeals  to  the 
gravitational  sensibilities  of  the  tax-pay- 
ers, or  does  it  want  a  good  serviceable 
court-house?" 

Most  of  the  arts  were  originally  slaves 
to  practical  ends.  Poetry  had  to  chronicle 
or  instruct  or  placate;  sculpture  had  to 
serve  religion  or  superstition  or  human-self- 
glorification ;  similar  tasks  were  assigned  to 
painting;  but  all  these,  even  from  the 
earliest  time,  seem  also  to  have  existed  in 

AND     MONOGRAPHS 

I 

256 

ESTHETIC    BASIS 

their  own  right,  because  what  they  did  was 
directly  pleasing  to  men.    Even  in  the  pop- 
ular mind,  poetry  has  emancipated  herself 
of  any  ulterior  end  or  service;    sculpture 
and  painting  are  for  the  delight  of  what 
they  show;   but  architecture  for  the  most 
part  still  stays  in  bondage.      Her  works 
are  too  costly  and  too  unwieldy  to  be  pro- 
duced for  mere  contemplation;    and  since 
they  are  unrepresentational,  men  have  sel- 
dom seen  what  such  works  might  be  in- 
tended for,  if  not  just  to  house  men  and 
their  chattels  with  perhaps  a  fine  external 
show  of  wealth.     Perhaps  because  of  this 
popular  bHndness,  though  we  may  have 
laid  a  thousand  stones  to  antiquity's  one, 
we  make  no  greater  art  of  our  architecture 
than  did  the  ancient  builders.     Indeed,  if 
subtlety,  refinement,  perfection  of  propor- 
tion, clarity  of  form,  sensitiveness  to  out- 
line and  surface  and  the  visual  appearances 
of  weight  in  equilibrium,  if  all  these  are 
criteria  of  artistic  accomplishment,  twen- 
tieth century  America  has  not  even  re- 
motely  rivalled   the   builders   of   ancient 
Greece. 

I 

BRYN     MAWR     NOTES 

OF    GREEK    ART 


257 


NOTES 

CHAPTER  I 

1 1  could  wish  that  writers  on  esthetics 
would  be  more  mindful  that  this  is  so,  and  that 
with  all  artistic  illusion  (if  it  be  truly  artistic) 
there  is  fused  to  some  degree  the  sensibility 
that  illusion  is  different  from  reality.  This 
appHes  to  all  the  imitative  and  presentational 
arts,  whether  of  the  theatre  or  the  atelier; 
and  it  needs  no  very  great  attention  to  dis- 
cover that  every  art  protects  its  title  to 
artistry  by  clinging  to  certain  conventions 
which  will' obviate  complete  and  full  illusion. 
The  theatre  has  its  curtain  and  footlights  and 
a  host  of  conventions  of  acting;  sculpture 
eliminates  colour,  or  rather  chromatic  fideHty ; 
painting  must  make  (and  particularly  delights 
in  making)  its  own  world  of  light  and  air,  and 
so  need  seldom  trouble  itself  with  the  fear 
of  too  illusionary  a  content;  the  minor  arts 
are  ever  conscious  of  the  gold  or  silver  or 
bronze  or  ivory  or  precious  stone  in  which  they 
work,  and  at  their  best  are  least  ashamed  of 
the  peculiar  and  native  qualities  of  their 
media. 

2  Perhaps  the  landscapes  of  Chinese  paint- 
ing will  best  suggest  the  direction  which  Greek 
art  might  have  taken  in  a  less  luminous  and 
more  misty  climate.  There  is  the  same  scru- 
tiny of  individual  forms,  the  same  indifference 
to  the  merely  optically  correct,  the  same 
intellectuahsation  and  artistic  rethinking  of 
objective  appearance,  the  same  extreme 
fidelity  to  the  ideal  content. 


AND  MONOGRAPHS 


258 

ESTHETIC    BASIS 

CHAPTER  II 

1  There  is  a  possible  confusion  here  which 
ought  to  be  avoided.     The  particular  run  of  a 
line  may  suggest  that  the  thing  which  it  helps 
to  represent  is  in  motion.     Lines  of  an  appro- 
priate contour  vjiW  make  us  see  a  dog  nmning, 
a  bird  flying.     Such  lines  present  motion,  i.  e., 
motion  in  the  represented  object.      But  the 
motion  which  is  a  formal  function  is  not  in  the 
picture  so  much  as  in  ourselves.     There  might 
be  a  greater  use  of  formal  motion  in  a  still- 
life  picture  than  in  a  representation  of  objects 
supposedly  in  very  rapid  motion,  e.  g.,  a  photo- 
graph of  a  galloping  horse. 

2  Tliis  is  quite  in  accord  with  later  Greek 
estimates  of  the  early  painters.      Compare, 
for    example,    the    following    passage    from 
Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus  {de  Isaeojudic.  4) : 
"In  ancient  painting  the  scheme  of  colouring 
was  simple  and  presented  no  variety  in  the 
tones;     but    the    Hne    was    rendered    with 
exquisite  perfection,   thus   lending   to   these 
early  works  a  singular  grace.      This  purity 
of  draughtsmanship  was  gradually  lost;    its 
place  was  taken  by  a  learned  technique,  by 
the  differentiation  of  light  and  shade,  by  the 
full  resources  of  the  rich  colouring  to  which  tlie 
works  of  the  later  artists  owe  their  strength." 
(Trans.  Jex-Blake.) 

CHAPTER  III 

1.  .  .  the  mere  contours  will  make  them  intelli- 
gible.    Cf.  Phny  (iV.  H.,  xxxv,  67-8):    "... 
rendering  of  outline.      This  is  the  highest 

I 

BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 

OF     GREEKART 

259 

subtlety  attainable  in  painting.  Merely  to 
paint  a  figure  in  relief  is  no  doubt  a  great 
achievement,  yet  many  have  succeeded  thus 
far.  But  where  an  artist  is  rarely  successful 
is  in  finding  an  outline  which  shall  express  the 
contours  of  the  figure.  For  the  contour 
should  appear  to  fold  back,  and  so  enclose 
the  object  as  to  give  assurance  of  the  parts 
behind,  thus  clearly  suggesting  even  what  it 
conceals."      (Trans.  Jex-Blake.) 

^  Polykleitan  statues  are  too  ^'square.''  Cf. 
Pliny  (lY.  H.,  xxxiv,  56):  ''Quadrata  tamen 
esse  ea  ait  Varro." 

3  iV.  H.,  xxxiv,  65. 

*In  addition  to  this  rotation  of  the  axes 
in  a  horizontal  plane,  a  vertical  displacement 
of  these  axes  occurs  in  more  complicated  poses 
such  as  those  of  sitting  or  crouching  or 
recumbent  figures.  It  will  be  found  that  this, 
too,  is  an  ordered  and  regular  process  con- 
tributing in  a  similar  manner  to  the  same 
end.     Cf.  the  Sleeping  Satyr  in  Naples. 

5  There  is  a  possible  quibble  here  which  I 
mention,  if  only  to  show  that  I  have  not  over- 
looked it.  The  third  dimension  in  normal 
geometric  space  stretches  aw^ay  in  parallel 
planes.  In  visual  space  its  planes  all  inter- 
sect in  the  eye  and  therefore  cannot  be 
parallel  but  must  be  radiate  like  the  lines 
from  a  vanishing  point  in  perspective  draw- 
ing. The  invisible  third  dimension  of  which 
I  have  been  speaking  in  connection  with  the 
spatial  extension  of  sculpture  refers  to  this 
third  or  radiative  dimension  in  visual  space, 
and  should  be  so  understood. 

AND     MONOGRAPHS 

I 

260 


ESTHETIC    BASIS 


6  Plutarch,  Qiiaest.  Conn.,  ii,  3,  2:  IIoXv- 
kX€lto<;  6  7rXd(TTr)<5  elire  ;(aX€7r<0TaTav  elvai  to 
tpyov  oTav  iv  ovv^l  o  ttt/Ao?  yLvrjTUL. 

'  Though  not  in  the  form  nor  to  the  extent 
postulated  by  Mr.  Jay  Hambidge  in  his 
' '  Dynamic  Sym metrv. ' ' 

*  Galen,  d'e  Plac.  Hipp,  ct  Plat.,  5. 

« irepl  /3e\o7rouK(i)Vy  iv,  2. 

1"  By  using  an  elaborate  system  of  simple 
ratios.  .  .  .  Similarly  Albrecht  Diirer:  "I 
make  the  rule  always  one-sixth  of  the  length 
of  the  figure  .  .  .  then  I  divide  the  rule  into 
ten  equal  parts  and  each  part  I  call  a  zall, 
each  zall  I  divide  into  ten  and  call  each  tenth 
a  teil,  each  teil  into  three  and  call  each  third 
a  trummlein."  Here  are  indeed  "many 
numbers."  The  smallest  unit  of  division  is 
one  1800th  part  of  the  total  height  of  the 
figure! 

"  Pliny,  N.  H.,  xxxiv,  65. 

12  Quint.,  xii,  10,  7. 

CHAPTER   IV 

1  The  Greeks  were  timid  engineers.  Consider 
the  elaborate  precautions  taken  with  the 
central  span  of  the  Propylaea  (W.  B.  Dins- 
moor  in  American  Journal  of  Archaeology, 
1910,  pp.  145  ff).  By  applying  the  rnodem 
engineering  formulae  given  in  Kidder's 
Architect's  and  Builder  s  Pocketbook,  I  find 
that  these  precautions  were  superfluous. 

2  Their  columns  were  .  .  ,  but  barely  sixty 
feet.  Cf.  Athens,  Olympieum;  Miletos, 
Didymeum;  Ephesos,  "fifth"  or  Hellenistic 
temple  of  Artemis. 


BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 


OF    GREEK    ART 


261 


•  Contrast  the  rich  inventions  of  plan  in 
late  Roman  times  (Montane,  Scielti  di  varii 
tempietti  antichi,  and  RaccoUa  di  tempii^  etc.). 

« I  do  not  accept  Dorpfeld's  suggestion  of 
an  original  symmetrical  plan  doubled  on  a 
north-south  axis. 

6  Plato,  Republic. 

8  Cf.  for  example  Dinsmoor's  plate  showing 
the  evolution  of  the  Ionic  Order  in  Asia 
Minor  (A.J.A.,  1908,  p.  4);  but  cf.  also 
Marquand,  Greek  Architecture,  p.  131  infra, 
".  .  .  the  Greek  love  of  variety,  which 
makes  it  impossible  to  apply  the  rule  me- 
chanically so  as  to  establish  an  exact  chrono- 
logical series." 

^  Cf.  Koldewey  and  Puchstein,  die  griech- 
ischen  Tempel  in  Unteritalien  und  Sicilien. 

>.  .  .  they  left  no  straight  line  straight.  The 
material  for  the  study  of  this  question  is  to  be 
found  in  Penrose,  Principles  of  Athenian 
Architecture  and  Goodyear,  Greek  Refine- 
ments. 

» .  .  .  not  optical  corrections.  Goodyear  has 
abundantly  proved  this  point  in  the  book 
referred  to  in  the  previous  note. 

10  Cf.  T.  A.  Cook,  The  Curves  of  Life; 
d'Arcy  Thompson,  Growth  and  Form-,  A.  H. 
Church,  Relation  of  Phyllo taxis  to  Mechanical 
Laws;  and  the  two  (very  popularly  written) 
books  by  S.  Colman  and  C.  A.  Coan, 
Nature's  Harmonic  Unity  and  Proportional 
Form. 

"  Mausoleum.  1  am  here  following  the 
measurements  and  calculations  of  W.  B. 
Dinsmoor    (A.J.A.,    1908,    pp.    1-29)    rather 


AND     MONOGRAPHvS 


262 

ESTHETIC     BAvSIvS 

than  those  of  Lethaby  {Builder,  Feb.  6,  1920, 
p.  168;    Sept.  3,  1920,  p.  256). 

1-  The  lions'  heads  .  .  .  are  so  placed. 
This  arrangement  is  certain  for  the  Athena 
temple  at  Priene  and  quite  possible  for  the 
Mausoleum. 

"  It  is  difficult  to  be  fully  persuaded  of  the 
absence  of  a  frieze  in  the  Priene  temple  and 
the  Mausoleum.  The  evidence  against  their 
presence  is  not  in  any  sense  conclusive. 

!■*  Commensurable  but  not  measurable  rela- 
tions, i.  e.,  commensurable  in  terms  of  simple 
integral  numbers  and  ratios,  but  not  measur- 
able in  feet,  palms,  and  dactyls  without 
fractional  parts. 

i^Marquand,  Greek  Architecture,  pp.  144-5. 

"  Goodyear,  Greek  Refinements. 

^^  In  Mr.  Donald  Tovey's  article  Music 
in  the  Enc.  Britt.  (Xlth  Ed.)  by  a  curious 
coincidence  a  metaphorical  comijarison  is 
made  between  Greek  music  and  an  art  of  two 
dimensions.  The  analogy  is  of  course 
intended  only  in  a  figurative  sense,  but 
deserves  at  least  a  passing  reference  here: 
"Non-harmonic  music  is  a  world  of  two 
dimensions,  and  we  must  now  inquire  how 
man  came  to  rise  from  this  'fiatland'  to  the 
solid  world  of  sound  in  which  Palestrina, 
Bach,  Beethoven,  and  Wagner  Uve." 

18  The  Baroque  is  a  very  good  period  to  study. 
I  wish  to  acknowledge  very  great  indebted- 
ness to  Geoffrey  Scott's  Architecture  of 
Humanism  for  my  general  position  on  the 
esthetics  of  architecture. 

i»  This  seems  to  be  inconsistent  with  what 

I 

BRYN     MAWR    NOTES 

OF     GREEK    ART 


was  said  in  the  chapter  on  Sculpture.  The 
point  of  the  argument  is  the  contention  that 
in  the  case  of  a  Caryatid  we  may  appreciate 
strain  and  weight  in  terms  of  a  human  bodily 
experience  within  ourselves  (precisely  as  in 
any  other  statue)  but  we  are  unable  to 
ascribe  them  to  the  building.  The  empathy 
is  sculptural,  not  architectural. 


AND    MONOGRAPHS 


263 


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